A Fair Amount of Courage
by Blue Kat
Summary: Sophie Fletcher is a self described coward. The Sorting Hat thinks otherwise and makes a decision that forces her to reexamine herself. With the rise of Voldemort, finding her courage becomes more difficult and that much more important to her survival.
1. Into the Lions' Den

**Disclaimer:** I do not own or claim to own any characters, places, objects, adjectives, or any other tangible items or ideas from the _Harry Potter_ universe. In general, most familiar characters, places, etc. belong to Ms. Rowling; the unfamiliar ones are figments of my imagination (unless you haven't read the books very careful, in which case there is bound to be a margin of error). My original characters simply inhabit the brilliant universe that Ms. Rowling created. In any case, I own nothing and do not seek to gain any amount of profit, infamy, bribes, or political positions from the posting of this story, so please don't sue (I don't have the money anyway).

**A note on canon and setting:** This was largely written before the publication of Book 7. I don't know how the events in Book 7 will affect the outcome of this, but I will cross that bridge when I come to it. This will follow book canon and not the movies (I don't know if this is as big a deal as it is in the _LOTR_ fandom, but I thought I'd clarify just to be safe).

**Author's Note: **This has been in the making for nearly three years now, although there are several notable changes from the original concept. I would love to hear what you think—it's my first _Potter_ fic and I would to hear any constructive feedback you would like to give me. Flames will be laughed at and used to roast marshmallows.

_**A Fair Amount of Courage**_

**By Blue Kat**

_Chapter 1: Into the Lions' Den_

Before I left for my first year at Hogwarts, my grandfather and my dad placed bets on which house I would be in. Dad was certain that my industriousness would make me a Hufflepuff. Grandfather claimed that my cleverness would win me a place in Ravenclaw. Mum just rolled her eyes and gently scolded them both for setting a poor example.

Well, as it would happen, both Dad and Grandfather were wrong.

"Let's see…" muttered the Hat in my ear, "honest, clever, loyal…oh…wait a moment…there's a fair amount of courage to account for as well…"

"Courage? You must be joking," I thought, suppressing a snort of laughter. The Hat was apparently unaware of how much my hands were trembling.

"I'm afraid not, Miss Fletcher," said the Hat with a hint of amusement in its voice. "Plenty of courage but not a lot of confidence…well, that can be changed, of course. Yes…yes, I think it had better be _GRYFFINDOR_!"

There was a decent amount of applause as I pulled the Hat off my head and handed it back to Professor McGonagall. I dazedly made my way over to the Gryffindor table and sat down next to a girl called Vivian Archer, another first year who I had met on the train.

"Congratulations!" she squeaked excitedly. "This is going to be great."

I nodded absentmindedly as "Harrison, Daniel" sat down on the stool. I was rather confused—next to Slytherin, Gryffindor was the house that seemed _least_ like me. 'Courageous' and 'brave' were certainly not adjectives that I used to describe myself. I sat through the rest of the Sorting pondering the courage that Hat thought I possessed.

Dad was shocked when I wrote to tell him the news.

"Well, this is certainly unexpected!" he wrote. "The Sorting Hat knows better than I do, of course. Although your grandfather doesn't like losing bets, I imagine that he will be very pleased to have another Gryffindor in the family."

Grandfather wrote me shortly afterward to congratulate me and pass on a small amount of pocket money.

"As neither your father nor I won the bet," he wrote, "it seems fair that you get the winnings."

Being in Gryffindor was different, to say the least. It became immediately clear that I was one of the quietest members of the house (rivaled by Betty Markwell, a fifth year who rarely spoke to anyone). At first, this was slightly daunting. Everyone else was so bold and colorful, which often made me feel as though I didn't quite belong. I was the sort of person who preferred reading about adventures, whereas most other Gryffindors preferred to experience adventures firsthand. I eventually voiced my concerns to Vivian, who was fast becoming my best friend at Hogwarts.

"Oh, Sophie, of course you're meant to be here," she said. "Being brave isn't about being loud and having people notice you. It's about the _quality_ of your actions and thoughts, not who _notices_ your actions and thoughts."

"Do you think so?" I asked quietly and rather hopefully.

"Of course!" she exclaimed with a smile. "You don't need bravery—you just need some confidence. Now come help me with this box of Chocolate Frogs—I can't eat them by myself, you know."

And so with Vivian's encouragement and the echoing words of the Sorting Hat, I began to feel a little more at home in Gryffindor, keeping a close watch for my so-called courage and waiting for the day when it would become a little more plain to me.

During my sixth year, I began to question my courage once again with the announcement of the Triwizard Tournament. The gasps of excitement rang throughout the entire dining hall, but they were particularly audible at the Gryffindor table. There was a twinge of excitement in the pit of my stomach, but not in anticipation of participating in the tournament—rather, I was more excited about watching it than taking part in it.

"D'you think I should have a go?" whispered Viv, her face glowing in excitement.

"Yeah…sure," I replied offhandedly, far more preoccupied with my inner thoughts.

Not only did I not want to compete in the Triwizard Tournament, I also would not be of age until May, so I could not participate even if I wanted to. My role was quickly reduced to spectator, which allowed for considerably less excitement than the role of potential participant. Consequently, my attention was quite free to settle on schoolwork. This proved to be rather difficult, as mentally I was still on summer holiday and not particularly keen on working. This was not a particularly helpful mindset to be in, as I had just begun N.E.W.T level classes and it tended to make the days drag on rather tediously.

The first week of term was a rather terrible one, beginning Monday with my first N.E.W.T level Defense Against the Dark Arts class. There was always some level anticipation about the first Defense Against the Dark Arts class of term because we almost always had a new professor. Although there was a good amount of curiosity about the new professor, there was also a certain amount of anxiety that accompanied it. We could get someone competent, like Professor Lupin, or we could get stuck with someone who had little to offer on the subject, like Professor Lockhart.

Professor Moody was quite unlike any teacher any of us had ever had. He certainly knew what he was talking about and I had no doubt that he would provide us with a decent education despite his eccentricities. However, his habit of barking "Constant vigilance!" at random intervals was not my favorite quality. This was especially so after he startled me so badly that I knocked my bottle of ink into my lap.

Everyone else in the class thought this was quite funny. To his credit, Moody was fairly understanding, but he assigned me extra reading on Sneak Attacks and informed me that this sort of jumpiness would not help me when I'm being attacked by various Dark wizards. Not wanting to test his humor, I decided not to tell him that I didn't think such a situation would ever arise.

Herbology wasn't much better. Professor Sprout, apparently bereft of anything else to do during her summer holiday, had been experimenting with cross-breeding several varieties of poisonous plants, one of which thought my index finger would be a nice afternoon snack. The bite wouldn't have been so bad if the poison didn't cause my finger to break out in painful blistering boils. Luckily, Professor Sprout had some of the antidote on hand and Madam Pomfrey was able to repair most of the damage.

The rest of my classes continued on in such a manner. Although the whole first week was a trial, Wednesday back was the worst day by far.

Wednesdays have always evoked a particular animosity in me. As a child, I struggled constantly with the spelling, adding or omitting letters until the word itself was a hideous string of nonsensical syllables that always merited a disapproving red mark from the teacher. As I grew older, Wednesdays held additional torture for me as I quickly discovered the true value of the weekends.

However, during my sixth year, I found an entirely new reason to hate Wednesdays.

N.E.W.T. level Potions.

To say that I was stunned to receive an 'Outstanding' on O.W.L. level Potions would be an understatement. I wasn't terrible at Potions, but I had certainly struggled with it and my best work never merited more than 'Exceeds Expectations'. I didn't want to continue with the class, but Dad wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. I signed up for the class with the promise that it would "build my character."

In short, the class was nearly unbearable. It was held in the dungeons and as a result, the temperature always dwelt somewhere between 'cool' and 'frigid', the latter mostly reserved for winter when the atmosphere inside the room seemed colder than the icy gusts that whipped against the outer walls of the castle. In warm weather, it was cool—but unpleasantly so, chilling sweaty skin to a level that bordered on horrid discomfort.

Despite the fact that it was horribly disagreeable, the Potions classroom could also be described as 'fascinating' or 'unusual,' though the unpleasantness of the environment caused almost everyone to resent the area in general. Many curious instruments were displayed on the uppermost shelves and the cabinets could be opened to reveal hundreds of vials filled with powders and liquids of every imaginable color and texture, each labeled with precise, neat lettering. Other cupboards were host to a variety of dried plants and flowers, while some were filled with pickled animal parts. Any of these articles could be seen as beautiful, horrific, disgusting, or even all at once; but there was no denying that as a whole, it was a rather remarkable display.

Had it not been for the blackboard at the front of the room and the desks lined up in neat rows, it would have been very easy to mistake it for the lair of a very powerful wizard instead of a classroom.

This was where Severus Snape reigned supreme.

In that classroom he was in his element. He was well-suited to his environment, his tall and imposing figure looming large in the confines of the room, his sallow skin possessing a ghostly glow against the dark backdrop of the dungeons. His eyes were cold and dark and a condescending sneer was almost always present in lieu of a smile, an expression which had not dared to grace his countenance in years.

Simply put, he was not a man to be crossed. This was doubly advisable if he happened to be your teacher.

Potions was a very difficult class where, regardless of the teacher, there was simply no room for mistakes. With Snape, it became doubly demanding, as he tended to make even the most confident student nervous. Schedule a class like that right before lunch on your least favorite day and you've got yourself a living hell.

It seemed that the very purpose of the first Wednesday of my sixth year was to make me regret signing up for Potions in the first place. I was drowsy, having spent the majority of the previous night reading _A Tale of Two Cities_, which Mum had given me to read on the train. I had spent most of the train ride gossiping with Vivian, Angelina Johnson, and Alicia Spinnet and I didn't get much of a chance to read it. Later, I decided that putting off homework was enough of an excuse to begin the book and quickly became engrossed with the story for the remainder of the evening. I ended up going to bed at an extremely late hour.

Noticing my lethargic state at breakfast that morning, Vivian had suggested that I have a cup of coffee with my breakfast to wake me up. And although Viv _is_ my best friend, she, like everyone else, is prone to error. While she was correct about the coffee giving me enough energy to remain semi-alert during class, she had failed to predict that the drink would additionally make me incredibly jittery.

And having Snape swoop around the classroom like an overgrown vulture did absolutely nothing to calm my nerves.

The noise in the classroom, or, rather, the lack thereof, was becoming increasingly annoying as time slowly passed. The soft murmur of the bubbling mixtures, the clink of glass, and the occasional whispered instruction combined with the steady click of Snape's boots against the stone floor produced an edgy sound that was more irritating than a ticking clock or a leaky tap.

In my caffeinated state, it was almost intolerable.

I tilted my head toward Vivian, who stood quietly at our cauldron observing the developing potion with a watchful eye. She inclined her ear in return ever so slightly, a technique perfected through years of quiet gossip behind the teacher's back.

"If this class doesn't end soon..." I whispered quietly.

There was a clink of glass.

"...I'm going to go..."

Papers rustled and someone scratched hurried notes.

"…stark…"

A chair scraped against the stone floor as someone rose from their seat.

"...raving..."

"Click," went Snape's boots.

Before I could form the 'm' in 'mad', the sound of shattering glass punctured the air. Startled, I knocked all my notes to the floor, and let out a short scream.

My hand flew to my throat as I turned toward the source of the noise. Alicia was standing over the shattered remains of a glass flask, which had thankfully been empty when it had slipped from her hands.

However, all initial feeling of relief vanished as I realized that most of the people in the room were openly staring at me and those who bore green and silver crests on their robes were smirking smugly.

Without missing a beat, Snape swooped down on the mess and after assessing the damage, flicked his wand and muttered a simple incantation that restored the flask to its original unbroken state.

"Ten points will be taken from Gryffindor for your clumsiness, Miss Spinnet," the Potions Master drawled.

Alicia flushed and muttered an apology as Snape forcefully set the glass down on her desk. His sneer became decisively nastier as his gaze flicked toward me.

"And as for you, Miss Fletcher, if you cannot learn how to act in my class, I will see to it that you are removed at once. Do I make myself clear?"

"I'm sorry, Professor, I just—" I began, my face burning.

"I did not ask for an excuse," he snapped.

The smirks of the Slytherins grew wider as I nodded, embarrassed. I hate to be made an example of.

"Yes, sir, I understand."

"An additional ten points from Gryffindor for your operatic behavior, Miss Fletcher."

The words were accompanied by the customary glare, as well as a few scattered sniggers.

"I want a sample of your completed potions on my desk in a marked flask," Snape continued sharply, finally moving his gaze from me to the rest of the class. "Hopefully there will be some improvement from your last pathetic attempt…but I doubt it. Class dismissed." With that, he stalked to the front of the room, leaving the rest of us to frantically scramble to add the last ingredient or carefully ladle completed potions into an empty container.

"I'll take this—you clean up," Vivian said, preparing a flask. Completely forgiving her erroneous advice that morning, I flashed a weak, but grateful smile for volunteering to brave the wrath of Snape and thought her the most wonderful person on earth.

By the time I had gathered my scattered notes and cleaned up the cauldron, nearly half the class had departed. Viv had returned the remaining ingredients to the supply cabinet and had been occupying herself by fiddling with the clasp on her bag. Eager to be free from Snape's scornful eye, I shoved the rest of my things into my bag and hurried from the room, tailed closely by Viv.

Alicia was waiting for me outside the classroom.

I knew Alicia fairly well, mainly because we happened to live in the same room together. Our interests didn't really overlap—she was a prefect; I was probably too timid to tell someone off for misbehaving. She was Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team; I was the only student in our year to have successfully got stuck in a tree twice while learning to fly a broom (I was fondly referred to as "Tree Girl" thereafter). Despite our differences, we were still fairly good friends and we had a good time together.

"Sorry, Sophie, I didn't mean to startle you," she greeted, her expression softening in apology.

"Don't worry about it," I replied, smiling slightly. "It wasn't your fault."

"Twenty points, though..." continued Alicia, falling into step beside Vivian as we made our way out of the dungeons and to the Great Hall for a lunch that was long overdue according to my growling stomach. "It seems rather excessive for an accident, don't you think?"

"Has Snape _ever_ been fair?" asked Viv, not waiting for an answer. "And besides, we ought to 'be grateful it isn't more.'" She gave a rather good impression of the Potions Master, her tone sharp and clipped, the effect enhanced by a familiar sneer. Alicia and I burst into laughter, which was shortly interrupted.

"Alicia Spinnet! Losing points for Gryffindor!" Fred Weasley had suddenly popped up next to Alicia, accompanied by a cheeky grin. "I thought I'd never live to see the day."

"And Sophie Fletcher!" Fred's twin, George had fallen into step next to me, an identical smile on his lips. I had finally worked out how to tell them apart near the end of fourth year, mostly through small clues that weren't glaringly obvious—the way Fred's eyes crinkled in comparison to George's, the small differences in their voices, smiles, and expressions. Fred, I had noticed, was more of a leader than his counterpart and perhaps slightly more mischievous (but not by much). With time, it became easier to see them as two separate entities rather than a blur of red hair and freckles.

It also helped that George had sat behind me in most of my classes with Fred on his left.

"Quiet little Sophie, the Amazing Tree Girl, screaming in class! It's unheard of!" George clapped me on the shoulder for emphasis.

I really wish people would forget about that nickname and focus on my better qualities. Like my neat handwriting. I really have lovely handwriting—I even put the nice little flourishes on the capital letters—but no one ever says anything about _that._

"Oh, _honestly_," Alicia said, rolling her eyes. "It was an accident; Sophie was startled, that's all."

Fred shook his head with mock sadness.

"No, I think they intend to outdo us, George," he informed his twin, who shook his own head in response.

"Unseat us from our thrones."

"Beat us at our own game."

"Outshine and surpass our good deeds."

Alicia and Vivian both burst into laughter at this last declaration.

"'Good deeds?'" I repeated, not even trying to conceal a disbelieving smile. George looked shocked.

"Why, Fred, they think us no better than common criminals!" he exclaimed, looking insulted. Fred placed his right hand over his heart.

"I am shocked and offended," he informed us, wagging his left index finger at me. "I have half a mind not to speak to you ever again!"

"Fred, when was the last time either of you did something for the greater good?" Vivian inquired, an eyebrow raised skeptically.

"Yesterday," replied Fred promptly.

"McGonagall overheard you calling Snape a slimy git, she docked ten points, and you barely scraped by without a detention," Alicia reminded him with a wry smile. Fred shrugged.

"I will brave any repercussion, so long as the real truth is known." He raised his eyes toward the ceiling, an expression of sad resignation upon his face.

"It's a burden we must bear," added George, attempting to look equally blameless. I laughed again, causing George to shake his head. "It's always the quiet ones you've got to watch out for. Sophie's plotting against us."

"I've always suspected it," Fred declared, shooting me a suspicious glance as we entered the Great Hall.

"We're on to you," George informed me as he plopped down in his usual seat at the Gryffindor table.

I sat slightly further down on the other side, opposite Viv, as Alicia rolled her eyes.

"You two stretch the meaning of the word 'ridiculous,'" she sighed in exasperation, taking her own seat next to Angelina Johnson, who had left Potions earlier than the rest of us.

"Indubitably," Angelina put in, nodding thoughtfully, and receiving a few blank stares. "Sorry. I've wanted to use that word all day. What was it you were going on about?"

And that was the end of _that_ conversation.


	2. Raccoons and Newts

**Disclaimer: **I'm just an admiring reader of Ms. Rowling's work, which isn't mine, never was mine, and never will be mine.

**Author's Note:** Thanks to those of you who took the time to write a review. I really appreciate it. Again, please feel free to leave feedback if you have any—I'd love to hear from you!

_Chapter Two: Raccoons and Newts_

I once encountered a quote in one of Mum's old literature textbooks that made a great impression on me. It was a harsh, yet strikingly truthful observation attributed to a Chinese librarian named Lao-Tzu: "A scholar who cherishes the love of comfort is not fit to be deemed a scholar." It was a maxim that impressed itself upon my mind despite the fact that I did not truly understand the wisdom behind it.

Naturally, this was all before I started Transfiguration.

Transfiguration was one of the most difficult classes on my schedule, but I found an almost perverse delight in the complexity and intricacy of the subject. It was easier than Potions, as most mistakes were fixable and Professor McGonagall was far more approachable than Professor Snape. I worked hard and earned decent marks, so I was generally satisfied with the class as a whole.

However, love (or what you will) must be tested at some point, and those moments came all too frequently in the Transfiguration classroom. This generally happened when the test subjects were of the cute and fuzzy variety.

I felt my resolve weaken as the small raccoon on my desk peered up at me with large innocent eyes. I was supposed to be turning him into a pair of shoes—however, every time I raised my wand, the furry creature would make a confused mew that made it impossible for me to perform the spell without feeling extremely guilty.

Vivian was working industriously at the desk next to mine. _She_ had absolutely no reservations about exploiting small innocent animals, and was the first person in the class to set to work. Although her success was at best minimal, as both of her shoes managed to retain ringed tails throughout the entire process, she kept at it with a persistence I had not seen since the time she got to practice Silencing Charms on me.

Though as I recall, I had to write a note to Angelina asking her to perform the counter-charm, as Viv was suspiciously oblivious to my frantic hand signals.

"I can't do this," I whimpered to Viv. She rolled her eyes and made an exasperated noise.

"Really, Sophie, it's a _raccoon_," she stressed for the fourth time that day. "They're not particularly pleasant creatures."

"You're only saying that because yours bit you."

"It _hurt_; I have very little sympathy for him now," she replied. "Besides, you know McGonagall changes them back once she's marked us on them." She gave me a pointed look before tapping the tailed shoes with her wand, changing them back into a rather befuddled raccoon.

"I know, I _know_," I mumbled as the animal on my desk sniffed curiously at my wand. "But really—look at its eyes! I can't just turn it into a pair of galoshes without feeling guilty!"

Vivian sighed and waved her wand sharply, causing her raccoon to turn into a pair of fuzzy pink slippers, which, in addition to matching tails, had sprouted a pair of whiskers each.

"Use your wrist, Miss Archer," advised Professor McGonagall as she stopped in front of my desk. "Miss Fletcher, your progress is...less than admirable." She looked pointedly at my raccoon, who was happily chewing on a stray piece of parchment. "Are you having trouble with the assignment?"

"Er...well...no..." I stumbled, my ethical standings seeming increasingly foolish under her scrutiny.

"She thinks it's cute, Professor," supplied Vivian matter-of-factly as she gave her slippers a sharp tap. McGonagall peered over the top of her spectacles at my raccoon.

"Be as that may, Miss Fletcher," she replied, "you must make an effort to complete the assignment or I shall have to fail you."

The raccoon chirped happily in response, unaware that we were discussing his very fate.

I nodded slowly. "Yes, Professor."

Her lips tweaked up in the semblance of a half-smile and she gave a curt, but understanding nod before continuing her rounds through the classroom. I sighed and raised my wand, giving the raccoon an apologetic look.

"Sorry," I whispered before gently tapping its forehead.

There was a small 'pop' and the raccoon was replaced by an ugly pair of penny loafers striped in varying shades of red, brown, and bright violet. Gold sequins and a pair of acid green tassels were stitched on the toes.

"Lovely," remarked Vivian.

"Well at least they don't have tails," I countered.

Vivian sniffed primly. "They're getting smaller."

"Weasley, Weasley, and Jordan!" barked Professor McGonagall from behind me, causing most of the class to start and Alicia to turn her raccoon into an exceptionally large teddy bear. "This is the third time I've had to ask you to stop talking!" I stole a glance over my shoulder. Professor McGonagall towered over the three, all of whom appeared remarkably calm. "Is there something you find more important than the given assignment?"

"Well, it's a matter of a rather delicate nature," said George after a moment of tense silence.

"And what might that be?" McGonagall inquired sharply.

"How the champions are chosen for the Triwizard Tournament," he replied.

I'm not sure if the following silence was in anticipation of information regarding the Tournament, or quiet awe of George's brave, but undeniably foolish disregard of McGonagall's wrath. The Tournament had provoked quite a bit of controversy when Dumbledore had announced that all aspiring school champions had to be at least seventeen in order to qualify. Fred, George, and Lee were sixteen and as a result, indignant and very focused on finding a loophole.

"Now is not an appropriate time to discuss that matter," said Professor McGonagall tersely. A few sighs issued from other hopefuls in the room.

"But Professor—" began George.

"Enough!" interrupted McGonagall before he could finish. "This is hardly something that concerns anyone under the age of seventeen and the next person who so much as mentions the Triwizard Tournament will find themselves in detention."

The grumbling and whispering came to an abrupt halt.

"Now, Mr. Weasley, I would appreciate it if you returned to your raccoon."

The three grudgingly turned their attention back to their masked assignments, two of which had managed to escape during the entire episode.

I had managed to produce a presentable pair of sandals when class ended half an hour later. Vivian had corrected the problem with the tails and whiskers and had really outdone herself with a pair of black stilettos that seemed too dangerous to even contemplate wearing.

"Pity," Viv said as we left the classroom. "I would have loved to keep them for a special occasion."

"Vivian!" I exclaimed. "You don't mean that! That's a living animal—you can't abuse it just because you need shoes to wear to dinner!"

"Yes, but they were rather lovely...and Merlin knows _that_ one deserved it..."

"_Viv_!"

"Vivian, when's your birthday?" interrupted Fred as he, George, and Lee fell into step beside us.

"You know, Fred, most people say 'hello' first," Viv replied dryly.

"I thought I'd defy tradition today," he said with a grin.

"Cheeky." Viv swatted him playfully on the shoulder. "It's the thirtieth of October and I'll expect a present."

"No good," he declared.

"Will I still get a present?" asked Viv.

"You're not going to give me a choice, are you?" asked Fred. Viv shook her head. "Well, all right then. What about you, Sophie?"

"The eighth of May."

I regretted the words almost as soon as they left my mouth. Fred's eyes sparkled with an unnatural sort of glee and Lee looked positively giddy. The corners of George's mouth were twitching as he struggled to keep his expression blank.

"Sophie, Sophie, Sophie..." said Fred, swinging an arm around my shoulder as we walked. "Have I ever told you how positively _wonderful_ you are?"

"Yes," I replied, somewhat warily. "Last week when I let you have the rest of my apple crumble at dinner."

"A prime example of your unbounded generosity," interjected George. Vivian coughed rather loudly.

"What is it you want now?" I asked suspiciously.

"Your signature," Fred answered with a bit of a mischievous smile, pressing a bit of parchment into my hands.

"What am I signing?" I had learned through trial and error that questions like these were imperative to one's health when dealing with any of the three.

"A petition," he replied.

"What kind of petition?"

"A request to make an exception for the age limit for those who were born within the seven months following the thirty-first of October," George explained.

I suppose I wasn't really surprised—after all, in third year they charmed the grim skull on Snape's desk to periodically let out a spectacular belch—but I found myself at a loss for words as I regarded the three with a puzzled stare.

"Do you really think Dumbledore would agree to such a thing?" I asked after a moment of silence.

"No," replied Lee. "But we intend to show it to the judge. If they see that there's a group of students being treated unfairly, they might be willing to bend the rules."

"Oh." I was somewhat befuddled by their bizarre logic, but I decided not to let it bother me. "Well, good luck with that." I attempted to hand the paper back to Fred.

"What? Aren't you going to sign it, then?" asked Fred, making no move to take the parchment.

"Er...well...no," I said, rather quietly.

"Why not?" inquired George.

"Well...I don't really want to enter."

"_WHAT_?" The three of them looked at me as though I had just declared Snape the most sensitive teacher in all of Britain.

"I don't want to enter," I repeated, somewhat daunted by their incredulous expressions. Vivian coughed again, very obviously hiding laughter. They gaped at me for a moment before launching into a list of the rewards to be reaped.

"Glory!" stated Fred.

"Honor," George added.

"Money," concluded Lee with a sage nod.

"Honestly. Don't you remember first year? I ended up in a bloody _tree_ when I tried to fly a broom," I reminded them as we approached the portrait that marked the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. "I really don't think that I'd be the best candidate for school champion."

"She also fell down the stairs last week," added Viv. I elbowed her in the ribs.

"Oh come off it, Sophie. It wasn't as bad as you make it out to be," argued Fred.

"I distinctly remember you laughing so hard you almost fell off your own broom."

"You must be mistaken. That was George," Fred responded promptly.

"It most certainly was not!" exclaimed the accused.

"It doesn't matter," I interrupted, shoving the paper into George's bag. "I don't want to enter—I'm not going to sign."

"Sophie..."

"Oh _really_!"

I jumped slightly and looked toward the source of the noise. The speaker was the occupant of the portrait, a rather large woman who had been christened with a nickname more unfortunate than my own—the Fat Lady. However, at that particular moment, she looked more annoyed than anything else.

"Leave the poor girl alone—she doesn't want to sign whatever it is and I don't want to sit here all night listening to your silly arguing."

"Balderdash," said Fred in reply, looking rather put out at her interference. The portrait swung forward, the Fat Lady grumbling about rude students. I clambered through the hole, dropped my bag in the common room, and assumed that the issue had been settled.

* * *

If there's one thing I learned that particular day, it was never to underestimate the combined efforts of Fred, George, and Lee. 

They gave me a brief reprieve during dinner, and settled for sending suspicious looks my way every once in a while. At the time, I simply assumed that they were bitter and had given up.

After dinner, I retreated to my usual table in the common room, intending to complete the essay Professor McGonagall had assigned that afternoon. Viv had buried herself in the latest bodice-ripper (sadly, all attempts to introduce her to _good_ literature have been in vain) and it looked to be a quiet evening.

Appearances, however, are often deceiving.

I had spent all of five minutes on McGonagall's essay when Fred, George, and Lee plopped down in the three remaining chairs.

"Hello, Sophie," George greeted, sitting in the chair closest to me. I observed him warily.

"What now?" I asked, setting my quill down.

"We were just checking to see if you had changed your mind," he replied.

"I haven't."

"Sophie...reconsider!" wheedled Fred.

"No."

"Please?"

"_No._"

This went on for several minutes.

"I'm getting a headache and my patience is wearing horribly thin," Viv finally announced without looking up from her book.

"Oh, sod off, Viv. This is important," replied Fred.

"Continued disruption will result in a dramatic reading from _My Muggle, My Love_ by Celesta Paramour."

I don't think I've ever seen them move more quickly. Perhaps there is some merit in Viv's choice of reading.

Several minutes after the three took their leave, my cat, Chester, hopped up on the table and stretched out on my Transfiguration notes, purring as though this action was supposed to be endearing. I removed him from my workspace and placed him on the floor. I then spent a good five minutes of my time in relocating the feline, as he kept leaping back up onto the table as though I had made a mistake in his initial displacement.

Chester eventually accepted his fate and settled down at my feet. After I had shaken all the grey cat hairs from my notes, I thought the interruptions would cease and I would be able to get some work done.

Shortly after that thought crossed my mind, Viv and I were both approached by a determined looking fourth year carrying a large collecting tin. I knew her name was Hermione Granger, but I couldn't imagine why she would want to speak with me, as we had never exchanged more than ten words.

"You do realize that your sheets are changed, your fires lit, your classrooms cleaned, and your food cooked by a group of magical creatures who are unpaid and enslaved?" she demanded in place of a greeting.

I blinked, rather bewildered.

"Er--sorry?" I replied. Vivian looked as though she were caught somewhere between amusement and perplexity.

"House-elves!" Hermione snapped, shaking her collecting tin for emphasis.

She launched into a very long explanation about the oppressive house-elf slave system that existed at Hogwarts and why we needed to band together to put a stop to the injustice. It was all very confusing and I wasn't really sure where I stood on the issue to begin with, as it had never been brought to my attention before.

"Well...I don't know...I suppose I could make a donation...but I don't think I have the time...school and all..." I faltered as Hermione stared at me rather fiercely.

I ended up giving her four Sickles, mostly to make her stop talking (she was rather intimidating, despite her age). Viv gave the same, though she was biting her lip rather hard to keep from laughing. Hermione thanked us somewhat tersely before marching toward a group of unsuspecting second years.

Shortly after Hermione left, the twins and Lee returned.

"Sophie!" greeted Lee. "We thought you might have changed your mind."

I shook my head.

"But you are the hope for the oppressed students born after October!" Fred exclaimed.

Viv snorted. I suppose this reflected her feelings on my quality of leadership.

"Quiet, Viv—you're not oppressed," replied Fred.

"And therefore, not entitled to comment on this pressing matter," concluded George.

"'At that moment, Priscilla knew she was in love with Algernon—his silvery eyes, his smile, his lips, and oh, those rippling muscles! Everything about him she cherished. But he was a Muggle and she was the daughter of the Minister of Magic! Her father would surely not approve of their love—he had made it clear that he wanted her to marry Demetrius, the attractive and arrogant wizard who would some day inherit the Cleansweep fortune...'"

Though I was somewhat sickened by the brief reading, I was more than grateful for the wonderful, albeit brief silence it created.

"What on earth has got into them?" greeted Alicia, nodding in Fred, George, and Lee's direction as she and Angelina claimed two of the empty chairs.

"Absurdity," answered Vivian.

"Typical," sighed Angelina. "Do you mind if we join you? There's a group of third years over by the fire who won't stop giggling."

"I suggested a few Lockjaw Lozenges, but she'd have none of it," explained Alicia, jerking her head toward Angelina. "She kept going on about ethics and dignity."

It's safe to say that after Alicia and Angelina sat down, we spent far more time talking than actually working.

"You look like you're having fun," greeted Katie Bell after a particularly loud burst of giggles from the four of us. Katie was a fifth year and on the Quidditch team with Angelina and Alicia. She was a very kind and sympathetic girl, and would occasionally socialize with us. "What are you going on about?"

"Very serious business," replied Angelina gravely.

"Namely: Dan Crawford or Cedric Diggory?" elaborated Viv, naming two of the most good looking boys in the school.

"Ooh…that's quite difficult," mused Katie, taking a seat.

Needless to say, productivity declined steeply after that.

Fred, George, and Lee inevitably returned and resumed their campaign for my signature several minutes after Vivian put her book away. Angelina informed me that I was being much too soft on the three and demonstrated the proper way of telling Fred off. This gave way to several entertaining conversations, which caused most of us to abandon our work entirely.

By the time the common room started to empty out for the night, I had written a total of four sentences.

* * *

When the weekend drew to a close, Fred, George, and Lee seemed to have entirely forgotten about the petition, for which I was extremely grateful. Unfortunately, I had not yet fully grasped the concept that it was inadvisable to underestimate any of the three.

I was sitting in Charms and copying down notes on Disillusionment Charms when my quill started acting rather oddly. I had dipped it into the inkwell less than a moment ago and it had already run dry. Frowning, I dipped it back in and tried again. I managed a few letters before it ran dry again.

I sighed irritably and was about to give up entirely when it gave a small squeak and abruptly turned into a rubber newt.

I stared unblinkingly at the amphibian for a moment or so. The creature suddenly blinked, looked up at me, and winked. My own eyes widened in silent surprise. The wink was followed by a large, unsettling grin. The newt proceeded to unroll a tiny scroll that was barely longer than my thumb. The scroll opened to reveal several lines of neat print:

_Happy (Early) Birthday to Miss Sophie Fletcher. Compliments of Messieurs Weasley, Weasley, and Jordan. _

I stared at the newt, both bewildered and amused as it continued to grin and blink back at me. After a moment's contemplation, I carefully transferred the amphibian to the front pocket of my bag. I could see Fred, George, and Lee out of the corner of my eye; all three of them were uncharacteristically intent on Flitwick's lecture. I withdrew another quill from my bag with a grim smile.

If Fred and George were still expecting me to comply, they were going to be disappointed.


	3. Unexpected Announcements

**Disclaimer**: Unless my Dumbledore keychain has undiscovered magical abilities, I still don't own anything significant (but I'll let you know if anything changes).

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the longer waiting period on this chapter—I was on vacation and didn't finish the editing in time to post it before I left. The waiting period for the next chapter may be of a similar length, as I've got another fic that needs to be updated and another one that needs to be posted. It won't be long though, I promise. As always, thanks for the reviews—they made my day (well 'days' would be a more accurate term, as I didn't get them all at the same time. But you know what I mean).

_Chapter__ 3_: _Unexpected_ _Announcements_

By the end of class, I had discovered that all four of the quills in my bag had been enchanted. The enchantments grew more noticeable as I tried different quills—my last quill sprouted arms and legs and began doing a complicated tap dance across my desk. Luckily, Professor Flitwick happened to be in a good mood and was rather tickled by the entire display—he actually _awarded_ the twins house points for performing such a clever charm.

"When do they find time to do all of this?" asked Vivian after class had ended.

"This sort of thing comes naturally to Fred and George," I replied, shoving the dancing quill into my book bag.

"Lee only encourages it," added Angelina as we exited the room.

"You say that like it's a bad thing," said Lee cheekily as he fell into step beside us, accompanied by the twins.

"Oh trust me, it is," said Angelina dryly.

"No doubt," agreed Alicia.

"Come off it, Angelina, you know you love me," grinned Lee.

"Nearly as much Filch loves Fred and George," she replied.

"Oh, he loves us," Fred assured her.

"He's just not sure how to show it," explained George.

"Then you _must_ fancy going on a date with me, Angelina!" concluded Lee.

"Oh, not this again," sighed Angelina, rolling her eyes. She walked ahead of us in her effort to avoid Lee, who was continuing his campaign for a date. It was half-jesting, half-serious game that had been going on since our second year and it was always amusing to witness.

"How are you, Sophie?" asked Fred, falling into step beside me.

"Fred Weasley, if you really think that a rubber newt is going to change my mind, you are sorely mistaken," I replied.

"When did you get so cheeky?" inquired George.

"When my quills started tap dancing across my desk," I said, arching an eyebrow at him.

"Actually, we mainly wanted to test the reaction on unsuspecting students," explained Fred. "We decided you would be the perfect candidate."

"Fred thought maybe you'd scream in class again," added George with a rather large grin.

"That was fairly disappointing, but entertaining nonetheless," Fred informed me.

"Well, I'm glad I could amuse you," I replied.

"But as you did bring it up…" continued Fred with a grin.

"You know it's worthless, Fred," stated Viv. "She can be terribly stubborn when she has half a mind to."

"Oh, I think we can persuade her," said Fred, wiggling his eyebrows.

"You're wasting your time," I assured him. "Perhaps you ought to bother someone else. I can't be the only student with a birthday after October."

"Ah, but Sophie, it's about reputation," said George, raising an index finger in the air.

I frowned. "What?"

"We need the signatures of students of good repute," he clarified.

"Perhaps you'd be best off with Harry Potter's signature," suggested Alicia wryly.

"By 'students of good repute', we mean 'students who rarely get into trouble'," explained Fred.

"Oh, honestly," I sighed.

"How many times have you had detention?" asked Fred.

"Well…never," I admitted.

"Have you ever lost house points?" asked George.

"Yes—"

"From anyone other than Snape?" queried Fred with a smug look on his face.

"Or Filch?" added George.

"No…"

"There you are! The perfect candidate!" declared Fred. I sighed.

"It wouldn't be very convincing if only Fred, Lee, and I signed it," explained George. "You know…given our records and all."

"Is that all the signatures you've got?" asked Viv incredulously.

"No, we're up to twelve, including the three of us," said Fred.

"But we need someone with a decent reputation—" began George.

"Someone like Sophie," added Fred, nudging me with his elbow in a friendly manner.

"—to sign and give the petition legitimacy," concluded George.

"So I've been chosen for my superior moral character," I stated, a small smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.

"Precisely," said Fred.

"Well, as a person of superior moral character, I can't very well sign something I don't believe in, can I?" I replied.

The twins looked at me and then at each other.

"Well…"

"Er…"

"I think you'd best look for a new strategy," suggested Viv with a laugh, while Alicia artfully repressed a fit of giggles. "Or give up entirely."

"Never!" declared Fred.

"It's a minor setback," replied George. He sent a grin and a wink in my direction. "We'll have you yet, Sophie."

I shook my head, both amused and vaguely frightened by what they might come up with next.

* * *

Fortunately, the twins did not get a chance to rally their efforts. The very next day (on Viv's seventeenth birthday) Beauxbatons and Durmstrang arrived at the castle. The subsequent welcoming feast marked the beginning of the Tournament as well as the unveiling of the Goblet of Fire, which further thwarted Fred, George, and Lee's plans. 

"It's a pity, really," Vivian said to the boys in the common room after the feast. "All that effort and the judge can't even read."

"Oh, Vivian," sighed Fred, shaking his head.

"You really underestimate us, don't you?" asked George with an air of disappointment.

"You really think you'll be able to outwit the Goblet?" asked Alicia incredulously.

"'You really think you'll be able to outwit the Goblet?' she asks," chuckled Fred dismissively.

"It's not a matter of _if_, it's a matter of _how_," George said confidently.

"What about Dumbledore?" asked Alicia, raising an eyebrow.

"What about him?" countered Fred.

"The man is a genius," stated Alicia. "You're all quite clever, but you're certainly nowhere near Dumbledore."

"Your lack of confidence is very disappointing," said Fred, shaking his head.

"Indeed," agreed Lee.

"You're absurd, the three of you," declared Viv, rolling her eyes.

The boys feigned offense and got up from their seats with quite a lot of huffing and many declarations of "Well, I _never_!"

"And I never got that birthday gift you promised," Viv called at their retreating backs.

The three of them turned around, Fred and George smiling rather wickedly.

"Oh, you just haven't _found_ it yet," said Fred with a terribly mischievous grin.

Fortunately for both of them, they were up the stairs and locked in their dormitory before Viv could retaliate.

* * *

Viv's gift turned out to be a major "improvement" on her Divination textbook. Whenever she opened the book, it would sing a very rude tavern song called "Sebastian the Squib". The worst part was it refused to stop until it had gone through all five verses. 

"When did they get a hold of this?" Viv demanded, stuffing the book back into her bag in hopes of muffling the song. It didn't really work.

"Who knows?" I shrugged.

"You leave your bag unattended quite often enough," Alicia pointed out.

"I've got to use the book for my homework," grumbled Viv as she reached for the porridge. "They'd better put it right before Monday's class or Madam Pomfrey won't be able to bring them back from where _I'll_ send them."

Fortunately for Fred and George, Madam Pomfrey got a hold of them before Viv would able to. Shortly after she made her threat, Fred and George's brilliant plan to fool the Goblet with Aging Potion backfired spectacularly in the form of two identical white beards sprouting on each of their faces. Viv's mood improved considerably after this.

"I can't say they didn't deserve it," said Viv with a satisfied smile as they headed up to the hospital wing with a laughing Lee.

"That was brilliant," I said, laughing. "It was almost worth all the harassment."

"I don't—"

Viv was interrupted by a loud cheer as Angelina came over to the Gryffindor table beaming.

"Looks like she's done it," I remarked as Angelina sat down with some fourth years.

"Have you put your name in yet, Viv?" asked Alicia.

"Did it last night," replied Viv, casting an annoyed look at her bag as the final muffled lines of "Sebastian the Squib" reached a loud crescendo.

"D'you think you'll get it?"

Viv shrugged. "No. I did it for a lark, really. That's why I put my name in last night—I didn't want anyone laughing at me."

"No one would laugh at you," said Alicia. "You're as qualified as anyone else."

"Well, they'd _talk_, and that's almost worse," replied Viv. "You know how Hogwarts is with gossip." She looked at her bag again. "I still don't know what I'm going to do without a proper Divination textbook…"

Luckily, good-looking Dan Crawford happened to be passing by at that moment.

"Viv, d'you need a book?" he asked, holding up his own copy of _Unfogging the Future_.

"Yes, mine's…indisposed," she replied, nudging her bag. This unfortunately resulted in the book immediately bursting into song.

"_Sebastian was a Squib, but he sure knew how to use his wand_…" sang the book. Viv glared at her bag.

Dan grinned. "You can borrow mine if you'd like."

Alicia and I exchanged a look, barely hiding our grins.

"Are you sure?" asked Viv, looking slightly relieved.

"Yeah, I finished the assignment this morning," he said, handing her his book. "Be careful with the chart in Chapter Six—it's rather confusing."

Viv grinned. "Thanks, Dan."

Dan flashed that irresistible grin that made the entire female population of Hogwarts weak in the knees.

"Not a problem. See you in class, yeah?"

"See you," she said as he departed.

"Viv, you're so lucky," sighed Alicia.

Viv shrugged. "I've helped him with homework before. He's probably returning the favor."

"Or not," I replied. With her curly black hair, blue eyes, and ivory complexion, Viv was nothing short of a beauty, although she didn't seem particularly aware of it. Alicia said perhaps it was just as well—otherwise she'd be intolerable.

"You're such romantics, the two of you," sighed Viv, shaking her head.

"You know you enjoyed it," said Alicia. "Perhaps you ought to be thanking Fred and George—it worked out in your favor, didn't it?"

"_He'd had his way with countless witches / 'cos he just couldn't keep it in his britches_…"

"Oh shut up," muttered Viv to her book.

The day passed fairly uneventfully from there and soon it was time for the champions to be announced. Angelina and Viv were naturally quite nervous and excited and kept looking up toward the faculty table throughout dinner. Fred, George, and Lee were all quite cheerful, despite the fact that their plans had been so publicly foiled.

Dinner was followed by excitement, which was quickly followed by scandal at the announcement of Harry Potter's name. In all honesty, it didn't really bother me that much at all. I suppose I was slightly curious as to how he got his name in the Goblet (and all right, it _was_ a little bigheaded of him to put it in there in the first place), but I didn't understand why everyone had to get so fussy about the two Hogwarts champions. After all, wasn't it just a game?

However, not everybody shared my laissez-faire attitude about the two champions. Most of Gryffindor was very supportive of the idea and a congratulatory party was thrown for Harry in the common room that evening. Angelina later said that she thought it was slightly arrogant of Harry to go and put his name in, but she said it in such a way that it was more of a compliment than an insult. Viv agreed with Angelina, although she said it didn't really matter anyway, as she didn't have a chance next to Cedric Diggory.

Of course, the Slytherins responded with their usual degree of maturity. Draco Malfoy saw it fit to pass out badges that read "Support Cedric Diggory—the REAL Hogwarts Champion!" and flashed "Potter Stinks" when you pressed them. Viv made a point of rolling her eyes in derision as we passed. Malfoy noticed and smirked smugly.

"Like my badge, do you, Archer?"

"Well, obviously it's the best you can do," said Viv in a patronizing sort of way. "I don't think you're capable of anything witty."

"_Vivian_…" I hissed under my breath, tugging discreetly on the sleeve of her robe as Malfoy's smirk faded and his cheeks flushed slightly in anger.

"That's nice, coming from a—" he began.

"I know, I'm a cheap tart, my family's a disgrace, and my cat's a blood traitor," sighed Viv with an air of boredom. "Honestly. Let me know if you think of something original."

Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "You—"

But Viv didn't wait to hear whatever Malfoy thought she was and continued on her way to class.

"Viv! You really oughtn't to have said that!" I scolded as I ran to catch up with her.

"Oh, what's he going to do?" asked Viv, looked quite unconcerned.

"Yes, but you know how his family is," I replied. The Malfoys had been linked to Dark Arts when You-Know-Who was alive. They weren't people you'd want to anger.

"Even if what they say is true, their biggest ally is dead," stated Viv, raising an eyebrow. "Besides, I'm doing him a favor. He can't expect to win arguments using the same insults all the time." She raised an eyebrow and gave a mischievous smile.

I sighed. "Obviously you're not going to listen to me. But really, you ought to watch your tongue."

Viv laughed. "Right, as soon as Hagrid joins up with the London Ballet."

Unfortunately, not all the ill-will came from Slytherin. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw were uncharacteristically chilly not just towards Harry, but the entire Gryffindor house. I suppose that you can't really blame them, but it got really annoying really fast. In Herbology, Heather Merrill, a Hufflepuff, ignored my request for the shears, which ended up resulting in another bite from one of Professor Sprout's wonderful new plants. Vivian, as she was wont to do, exchanged heated words with several members of the Ravenclaw house. This became particularly exciting when Dan Crawford came to her defense during a Divination class.

I suppose the biggest surprise was Ron Weasley's reaction. He, Harry Potter, and Hermione Granger had more or less been attached at the hip since their first year. But after the announcement of the champions, Ron was seen less with Harry and more frequently with his brothers and Lee Jordan.

"What's going on?" I asked the twins one morning at breakfast after Ron had left.

Fred shrugged. "Some row about the Tournament."

"They bicker like an old married couple," sighed George. "Hermione, too. If it's not one thing, it's another."

After the announcement of the champions, the days seemed to blend together in one mess of schoolwork and classes. I remember the First Task only because the dragons terrified me.

"This is exactly why I was not keen on entering the Tournament," I said to Fred and George as Viktor Krum entered the ring. I was twisting my hands nervously in my lap. Even though we were fairly far away from the dragons, I was still exceptionally nervous.

"Oh, come off it, Sophie," said Fred. "It's just a dragon."

The crowd gasped as Krum narrowly avoided a jet of flame from the dragon's mouth.

"Oh, right. Just a dragon," I replied sarcastically. "Practically harmless."

"Sophie, you've cut off circulation to my arm," declared Angelina. I had inadvertently caught hold of her arm when the dragon breathed fire. I was still clutching her rather tightly.

"Oh, sorry," I said, letting go of her arm.

After the First Task was over, my attention went back to classes and homework, with frequent bouts of avoiding homework with the help of my friends. Ron and Harry apparently made up, as he began spending less time with his brothers and more time with Harry and Hermione. Life was as normal as it could be at Hogwarts and I was quite content with the way things were.

It was only with McGonagall's announcement that my focus sharply changed.

"I have an announcement," Professor McGonagall declared near the end of class one day. The scattered murmurs and laughter came to a reluctant halt.

"As you may know, the Triwizard Tournament includes a formal ball on Christmas evening—the Yule Ball."

There were a few excited murmurs, mostly from the girls. McGonagall silenced them with a stern look. She cleared her throat and continued.

"This gives the three schools an opportunity to mingle and socialize. Now…" She paused, her expression growing more serious. "I want you to understand while this is a social occasion, the same standards of behavior shall apply. As sixth years, I expect you _especially_ to be on your best behavior and set a good example for the younger students."

She looked pointedly at the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan.

"Now, if there are no questions, class is dismissed."

I gathered my things, listening as Viv, Alicia, and Angelina began whispering and giggling.

"Who d'you you think you'll ask?" asked Viv in a whisper as we exited the classroom.

"Er…no one," I replied.

"Come on, Sophie, you've got to have someone in mind," insisted Alicia.

"Well…I don't really know if I want to ask someone…"

Viv sighed. "Fine. Who do you want to ask you?"

I chewed on my lip for a moment. "Er…well, I dunno if I want to go."

Viv gave an almighty sigh. "Sophie!"

"What? I'm very non-confrontational, you know that," I protested.

"This is a ball, Sophie, not a war," Angelina pointed out.

"And it's foolish to not consider going because you're worried about a date," added Alicia.

"Well, it's a rather big thing to me!" I said. "Besides, they'll probably be lined up outside the common room to get to you three."

Viv gave a dismissive wave of her hand. "Nonsense."

"You won't have any trouble, a pretty little thing like you," stated Angelina.

"You're awfully kind," I replied, with a wry sort of smile, "but I'm afraid you're mistaken."

"Just don't worry about it," advised Alicia. "It's not worth worrying about."

Try as I might, I could not take Alicia's reassurances to heart. Although I tried to put on an indifferent front, I really did want to go to the ball. Mum and I had spent nearly an entire afternoon in Diagon Alley trying to find the perfect set of dress robes. We finally settled on a pair of shimmering pale gold with beading on the waist, neck, and sleeves. I had been looking forward to wearing them and I would feel terribly guilty if the entire shopping endeavor had to go to waste.

Naturally, I spent the next few days panicking and worrying. I worried about having a date and not having a date. I worried about having to ask someone myself and being rejected and/or laughed at. I worried that I would have to go with a first year because everyone else was paired up.

"This is ridiculous," I declared one evening while sitting at a table in the common room with Viv, Angelina, and Alicia. "I'm going to go mad before Christmas."

"Really, Sophie, you're going to be fine," said Vivian looking up from her Potions essay.

"Spoken like a girl who's already got a date," I replied.

"Well, not really," said Vivian. She paused and thought for a moment. "No, well…I mean, I've been asked, but I haven't said yes so I don't quite have a date yet—"

"Someone asked you and you didn't tell us?" I exclaimed.

"Well, I haven't decided between the two of them yet…"

My jaw dropped. Angelina looked up from her Astronomy textbook and Alicia nearly knocked over her bottle of ink.

"_Two_?" the three of asked all at once.

"Yes," said Viv, quite unconcernedly.

"_What_?" I asked.

"Who are they?" Angelina wanted to know.

"Tell us _everything_," demanded Alicia.

"All right, all _right_," sighed Viv, as though this wasn't a big deal. "This boy from Beauxbatons—Adam—asked me this morning. I've seen him in the library and last week he helped me with my Transfiguration essay. But before I could give him an answer, Dan Crawford—"

Angelina's jaw dropped. "Dan Crawford?"

"Yes, Dan Crawford," said Viv.

"Dan Crawford asked you and you didn't _say_ anything to us?" gasped Alicia.

Viv shrugged. "I didn't think it was _that_ urgent."

"If it involves a date with Dan Crawford, it's urgent," stated Alicia.

"I'll make a note of that," remarked Viv dryly. "Anyway—Dan came up all out of breath and asked me. Poor thing—he looked so nervous." She smiled and shook her head. "Well, I didn't know what to say to either of them, so I told them I'd have to think about it and let them know tomorrow."

She shrugged and smiled slightly at the three of us, as though it were completely normal to be asked out by two boys (much less Dan Crawford) in the span of thirty seconds.

"How do you manage that?" asked Angelina.

Viv shrugged nonchalantly. "Dunno."

"Well, that's it. I'm doomed," I declared.

"You're not doomed," said Alicia soothingly.

"Don't worry Sophie—I haven't got a date, either," said Angelina, patting me on the arm. The three of us looked toward Alicia, who, as of lunch, was also dateless.

"Alicia?" I asked. She smiled.

"Er…Lee asked me in Herbology today," she confessed.

"What? When did this happen?" I demanded. "We're _partners_ in Herbology! How could I not notice?"

"He asked while you were at the infirmary with that bite," she said. "You know, you've really got to look out for those things. What's this, the third time this term?"

"Fourth, actually," I corrected her.

"Well…all this time we thought Lee fancied Angelina!" said Viv with a mischievous smile.

"Oh, come off it, that's just a game," replied Angelina. "We _both_ know that."

"And we're just going as friends," Alicia vowed.

"Right," replied Viv skeptically.

"It's _true_!" protested Alicia.

"Besides," continued Angelina, "I think _your_ admirers are far more interesting than Alicia's, Viv."

"He's not my admirer!"

"She's got a point," I interjected. "Who are you going to choose, Viv?"

"I don't know," replied Viv dolefully. "I mean, they've both got their good points."

"Such as?" inquired Angelina.

"Well, they're both quite good-looking—"

"I dunno, Viv, I think Dan may have the advantage over Adam," said Angelina.

"You haven't even seen Adam!" protested Viv.

"Dan is the Firebolt of men," said Angelina. "Cleansweeps don't look as good next to him."

"Angelina, you know I don't understand half your Quidditch references," stated Viv.

"It means he's the best," supplied Alicia.

"Well, perhaps," mused Viv. "However, Adam _is_ French…" She gave a devious sort of smile.

"Does he have an accent?" asked Alicia, dreamily.

"He's got a slight one, which is rather nice and all," replied Viv. "But it's rather funny because he assumes I only speak English, so he speaks to his friends thinking I don't understand him."

"Has he said anything about you?" asked Angelina.

"Well," said Viv, biting back a smile. "He told his friend that he thinks I'm quite pretty."

Alicia and Angelina gasped.

"Spending the summer with my cousins in Paris has proven to be rather advantageous," shrugged Viv. "But they're both awfully nice and all…"

I sat back and listened, occasionally making a comment or two, but mostly keeping to myself and silently worrying.

My days progressed much like this for quite a while. Toward the end of the last week of term, I had grown so tired of hearing about the Yule Ball that I immersed myself in my History of Magic textbook after dinner in order to avoid further discussion.

"You're mad," declared Viv as I painstakingly copied down notes on the goblin rebellions of the 1850s.

"I need a distraction," I replied.

"Sophie, really…"

"Viv, it's either this or wallowing in the fact that I'm the only girl who hasn't been asked," I stated. "And I despise wallowing. Besides, we have an exam the Friday we return from holiday, you know that."

Viv sighed. "You're not the only—"

I gave her a look. Almost everyone had been paired up by now. Fred had asked Angelina the previous night. Mind you, he had shouted his invitation across the common room, but a date's a date.

"Fine. If you're going to be difficult, I'll leave you to the goblins," she sighed. "Maybe you can talk some sense into her," said Viv, to George as he approached the two of us. "I'm going to go shower."

"What's she mean by that?" asked George as Viv disappeared up the girls' staircase.

"I'm studying History of Magic," I replied quickly. Although I considered George a friend, I'd rather not discuss my Yule Ball woes with him.

"Sophie…" he scolded. "Why would you ever do a thing like that?"

"Well, I missed most of today's lecture, as Viv kept passing me notes about Beret Boy, the French Wonder Date," I replied, rolling my eyes.

"She's going with that Beauxbatons boy, then?" asked George.

"Yeah…I haven't even met him and he's already irritating me."

George grinned. "So you're drowning your sorrows in History of Magic? Sophie, you've got to get some help!"

I shrugged. "I've got an exam when we get back."

"You've got loads of time to study!" George protested.

"I like to be on top of my work," I replied. This wasn't entirely untrue. "Now, are you going to continue to badger me, or would you like to make yourself useful and help me study?"

And to my surprise, he grinned and sat down in the chair directly across from me.

"All right," he agreed.

"Really?" I asked reflexively.

"Well," he said, "I am, after all, an expert of History of Magic."

I smiled. "Really…well let's see how you do."

George's remarkable skills did not fare very well under pressure, although the answers that he invented were quite entertaining.

"Who was Hargorp the Hideous?"

"Severus Snape," George promptly replied.

Eventually, I handed my book and notes over to him and had him ask some questions. Unsurprisingly, he was also able to create a plethora of questions that bordered on ridiculous.

"You certainly are knowledgeable," I said with a laugh after he asked me what color socks Angorus the Angry had been wearing when he signed the Peace Treaty of 1858. "Perhaps you ought to have continued on with History of Magic."

"Honestly, what are you learning in this class? It's common knowledge that his socks were blue with a pattern of severed dwarf heads," he sighed, flipping through the book. He stopped and glanced over a page. "Hmm…yes. All right, in 1482…"

"I thought we were doing the nineteenth century?" I asked, tilting my chair back slightly.

"Surprise review question," said George, grinning. "Got to keep you on your toes, you know."

I smiled. "All right, go on."

"In 1482, the wizard George the Great…I assume you've heard of him?"

I laughed. "Yes, I believe he was imprisoned for causing far too much trouble."

"No, that was his twin, Fred the Facetious," George replied.

"Oh right. I always get them confused."

"No, George the Great was much more noble, clever, and handsome than his brother," he informed me. "That's how you tell them apart."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Right. In 1482, George the Great asked Sophie the Splendid—you've heard of her as well, I imagine?"

I laughed again. "Of course."

"She was quite lovely, but terribly cheeky," George stated.

"Many scholars have refuted this," I said with a small smile.

"Clearly you're learning nothing but rubbish from this class," George said, shaking his head.

I laughed and waved my hand for him to continue.

"Well, in 1482," began George once again, "George the Great asked Sophie the Splendid if she'd fancy going to a ball with him. What was her answer?"

I was rather shocked to say the least. In fact, I was so shocked that my foot slipped from the table leg and my chair tipped backward, neatly depositing me on the floor in a tangled heap. I stared up at the ceiling for a moment, feeling rather foolish and slightly flustered.

"All right?" asked George, coming round the table.

"Yes, I'm fine," I replied, untangling myself.

"It's not that objectionable, is it?" he asked, offering me a hand and helping me to my feet. I gave a nervous laugh.

"No, no," I replied, straightening my robes and righting my chair. "I just have no sense of balance. You ought to know that by now."

"Sometimes I forget about your legacy as the Amazing Tree Girl," he said with a sly grin as I sat back down.

"What a pity," I said sarcastically. There was a brief pause as George sat back down in his chair.

"Well?" he asked, folding his hands across the textbook.

"'Well' what?"

"You didn't answer my question," he said with a slight grin.

"You're not serious?" I laughed, trying to keep myself from blushing.

"I'm sorry, that is incorrect," he replied.

I laughed again. "Well, she said yes, of course."

George grinned. "Excellent. Clearly you've managed to learn something in this class."

I had thought that perhaps it would be rather awkward after that, but surprisingly, our conversation continued to be easy and very amusing. Around eight o'clock, George excused himself to go play a game of Exploding Snap with Fred and Lee. I gathered my books shortly afterward and went upstairs. Viv was sitting on her bed and brushing out her hair. Angelina was buried in her Transfiguration notes and Alicia was reading a magazine.

"Have you come to your senses?" asked Viv as she worked on a particularly tangled lock of hair.

"What do you mean?" I asked, setting my books down on the bedside table and not really paying attention.

Vivian sighed. "Honestly, Sophie. Do you ignore everything I say?"

"Sometimes."

"Have you stopped worrying about the Ball, then?" she asked.

Alicia snorted and looked up from her magazine.

"Viv, it's her _nature_ to worry," she said.

"If it's not the Ball, it's something else," added Angelina, not looking up from her notes.

"Actually," I began, slightly miffed, "I'm not particularly concerned about the Ball right now."

"Really?" Viv said, pausing to look at me through a curtain of hair. "You've finally taken my words of wisdom to heart?"

"Well…" I began, sitting down on my bed and kicking off my shoes, "not exactly."

"Then why?"

Angelina looked up from her notes and Alicia had put aside her magazine. I smiled slightly, prolonging the moment as I peeled off my socks.

"George asked me to go with him."

Alicia let out an excited squeal and a big smile broke out on Angelina's face.

"_What_?" asked Viv as her brush clattered to the floor.

"You needn't look so surprised. It doesn't inspire much confidence, you know," I replied.

"No, it's not like that…I just didn't expect—well, Sophie, that's wonderful!" she stammered.

"Why didn't you say anything sooner?" demanded Alicia.

"Didn't give me much of a chance, did you?" I replied with a smile.

"He didn't shout across the common room, did he?" asked Angelina.

"I want details!" declared Vivian.

"Now!" added Alicia for good measure.

I have to admit that it was rather nice having the three of them hang on my every word as I related the story to them. The discussions that I had been privately resenting for the past few weeks finally became fun and I could begin to see why everyone was so giggly and gossipy all the time. Suddenly, my week got a lot better and my future didn't look quite so bleak.

There was just the Ball itself to worry about…mainly the fact that I dance just about as well as I fly. The Yule Ball would certainly involve dancing. I paused for a moment as that thought crossed my mind.

Suddenly, I didn't feel quite so carefree.


	4. Shall We Dance?

**Disclaimer:** If I owned Harry Potter, I probably wouldn't be quite as excited about July 21 and the significance thereof.

**Author's Note:** Thanks again for the reviews. I hope the last chapter wasn't too corny for you. I'm a big fan of cute "how-he-asked-me-to-the-big-dance" stories and I couldn't resist. But the sappiness and corniness levels should remain pretty low for a while, despite what this chapter might indicate. Anyway, please let me know what you think!

_Chapter 4: Shall We Dance?_

When the Christmas holidays finally began it was as though no one could speak of anything but the Yule Ball. There were, of course, the necessary dramatics—So-and-So had dumped What's-His-Face for That Bloke and What's-His-Face tried to curse That Bloke and now they've both got boils in unmentionable places—that warranted constant speculation. The gossipy and giggly of Hogwarts were having a field day. And despite the fact that I was rather excited (and nervous) about going, it got to be rather tiresome after a while. You can only really talk about dress robes and dates for so long without getting repetitive.

"I've got half a mind to rescind my invitation," warned Fred one evening when Angelina had gone particularly giggly at the mention of the Ball.

"Oh, let me have my fun," said Angelina, swatting him on the arm. "Girls like this sort of thing."

"It's quite a natural reaction," stated Viv.

"Of course it is," agreed Alicia.

The three of them looked at me expectantly.

"Don't give me that look," I said raising my hands defensively. "You know I'm not quite as mad about it as the three of you are."

"Clearly she's the only sensible girl between the four of you," said Lee, causing Alicia, who was closest to him, to swat him on the shoulder.

"Sophie, stop being practical," scolded Viv.

"It's more fun this way," stated Angelina. Fred shook his head empathetically.

"Stay on the side of reason!" he begged, throwing himself down on his knees, his hands raised in supplication.

"You're our only hope," said George solemnly.

"Actually, I can't quite decide who's being the most ridiculous," I replied as Fred launched himself at my feet, pretending to weep copiously.

"Really? I don't think there's much of a competition," stated Angelina, arching an eyebrow at Fred.

"Are you sure you want to spend an evening with him, Angelina?" asked Vivian as I tried in vain to remove Fred from my feet. "Terrence Whittaker doesn't have a date yet and he's quite good-looking."

"Too late. She signed a contract," declared Fred as I finally detached him from my ankles. He hopped onto the couch, squeezing himself between Angelina and me. "She's stuck with me." He grinned and batted his eyelashes in a manner that was apparently supposed to be endearing.

Angelina raised an eyebrow and turned to Viv. "Terrence Whittaker, you say?"

And so it continued.

In the days leading up the Yule Ball, gossiping, giggling, and the demand for beauty products increased tenfold among the girls. Vivian took advantage of this sudden need and made quite a few Galleons by selling hair tonic and nail varnish at a slightly inflated price. No one was entirely sure where she kept getting the supplies, but I suspected it involved bribing Fred and George to make illicit runs to Hogsmeade.

Despite the growing changes in the female population, the boys as a whole appeared to be entirely unaffected, although Angelina swore that they looked slightly more awkward and nervous as the Ball approached.

On Christmas Eve it was difficult to tell whether the anticipation amongst the students was due to the imminent arrival of Christmas or the approaching Ball. Whatever the exact reason, the entire Gryffindor common room was full of laughter, tinsel, and pure noise on Christmas Eve. The seven of us exchanged gifts that evening, as it was easier than trying to do so on Christmas morning. Viv gave me earrings, Alicia and Lee both got me sweets, and Angelina knitted me a hat. Fred and George, of course, gave me a book wrapped in a box that made a very loud exploding noise when I opened it. After I chased them both around the common room for an appropriate amount of time, we all went upstairs for the evening. I began to fidget relentlessly as the nerves began to settle in more securely.

"What's got into you?" asked Alicia after I accidentally knocked over my bedside table.

"Er…just nerves," I replied as I righted the table and gathered the items that had been strewn across the floor.

"Nerves?" asked Angelina.

"The Ball," I explained. Viv shook her head.

"What's there to be nervous about?" asked Alicia.

"George can be an idiot, but he's all right," said Angelina reassuringly.

"And you're friends, so it's not at all stressful in that way," added Alicia.

"No, it's not that…" I replied, biting my lip slightly. I hadn't told anyone about my inability to dance for fear of appearing foolish. Merlin knows I got enough grief for my aptitude at flying.

I took a deep breath. "It's just…I…I can't dance."

The three of them exchanged looks before bursting into laughter.

"What?" I asked feeling slightly irritated. "It's rather overwhelming for me."

"Is that all?" asked Angelina.

"Oh, Sophie," sighed Viv through her laughter. "There's nothing to it, really."

"Viv, you took dance lessons for your entire childhood," I pointed out. "You're not one to talk."

"She's right, though," declared Angelina. "It's really not hard."

"There's only one formal dance," added Alicia. "It will probably be a waltz, which is easy enough."

"Not for me," I replied.

"Oh, that's it," said Viv, springing to her feet and grabbing hold of my wrist.

"What are you doing?" I asked as she marched me to the center of the room.

"Proving you wrong," she replied. "I'll lead."

"Viv…" I protested, laughing.

"No 'buts'," she said firmly. "Ready…and one, two, three, one, two, three…"

The four of us spent the rest of Christmas Eve laughing and waltzing our way around the dormitory until Katie Bell knocked on our door and informed us that her roommates would appreciate it if we were a little quieter.

* * *

The next morning I awoke to Viv ripping open my bed hangings and flinging herself onto my bed. This had become a Christmas tradition and every year she always managed to elbow me in the stomach.

"Argh!"

"Happy Christmas!" she chirped as Chester scurried under the bed in fright.

"What's happy about it?" I grumbled, massaging my stomach.

"Don't be such a spoilsport," she said. "It's quite a lovely day—it's snowing."

"An elbow to the stomach is not my ideal way of waking up," I informed her as I pulled the blankets up to my chin. "Judging from the way my cat reacted, he didn't like it much either."

"Oh, go on." She waved her hand dismissively. "It's Christmas, it's snowing, and the Ball is tonight—an elbow to the stomach can't possibly spoil your day."

I grumbled again.

"I'm going to wake up Angelina and Alicia," she stated as she hopped off my bed. "And then we're all going to open our presents together, all right?"

I grumbled in assent as Viv happily launched herself at the unsuspecting Angelina, who swore quite colorfully, which in turn woke up Alicia, just like every year.

Aside from (unintentional) bodily harm at the elbows of Vivian, Christmas morning was a fairly subdued affair. I got a fair amount of books, as well as a small amount of money and a few pieces of jewelry. I dressed shortly afterward and went down to the common room with my new _Complete Works of Shakespeare_ in hand (a gift from Mum, who was quite keen on exposing me to Muggle literature), planning to read and relax before dressing for the ball that evening. Shortly after I settled down in one of the armchairs, Fred and George came downstairs wearing their winter coats, hats, scarves, and gloves.

"Merry Christmas," they chorused. I looked up from my book.

"I suppose you consider yourselves forgiven for yesterday?" I asked. They both grinned.

"We got you a present, didn't we?" asked Fred. I raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, go on. You know you can't stay cross with us for long, Sophie," said George.

"We're too charming," added Fred with a wide grin.

"That's an interesting theory," I replied, attempting to look angry. It didn't work too well, as their smiles only grew wider. "All right, all right," I conceded. "Merry Christmas to you as well."

"See?" said Fred.

"One day it won't work," I replied. Neither of the twins looked particularly convinced. "Where are you off to?"

"Snowball fight," said Fred with a mischievous sort of gleam in his eye.

"Care to join us?" asked George.

"No, I think I'd rather stay warm and dry today," I replied. The boys pulled exaggerated faces of sadness.

"Oh, come on, Sophie," wheedled Fred.

"It'll be a laugh," promised George.

"Next time, I promise," I said.

"Oh, you always say that!" protested Fred.

"And then you never follow through," stated George.

"I will this time," I promised.

"D'you swear it?" asked Fred.

"On my honor."

The twins looked dubious.

"On my cat?" I tried.

Fred chewed his lip for a moment and then nodded. "We'll hold you to that."

"Otherwise the cat is ours," warned George.

"What are you going to do with a cat?" I asked with a laugh.

Fred shrugged. "Test subjects are hard to find."

I shook my head and went back to my book.

* * *

I spent the majority of Christmas morning engrossed in my book, pausing only to go downstairs to the Great Hall for lunch. It didn't seem like much time had passed when Viv marched downstairs and informed me that it was time to get ready. 

I yawned and looked at my watch. "It's only four o'clock, you know."

"Precisely," said Viv, taking my book from my hands and snapping it shut. "That's hardly enough time." I rolled my eyes and followed her upstairs.

There are several disadvantages to living with three other girls, namely the fact that the four of us were expected to share one bathroom. Normally, this wasn't much of a problem, as we all were in the habit of showering at different times of the day. However, we all knew that the Yule Ball was definitely going to cause some scheduling problems.

Luckily, we had Angelina.

Angelina was frightfully well-organized. Her days were planned in more detail than any high security wizarding event. We always joked that if Fudge really wanted to solve all his problems, he ought to appoint Angelina as his secretary. She was the sort of person you could turn to during a crisis and she was certainly the sort of person who could solve the problem of four girls sharing one bathroom.

"Right," said Angelina once we'd entered the room. She had a spare piece of parchment in front of her. 'Schedule' was printed clearly at the top and there were four columns with each of our names and rows with the time marked in quarter hour increments. "I've worked it out—we've each got twenty minutes to shower. Viv, you'll go first, then me, then Sophie, and then Alicia. Alicia's decided to varnish her nails the Muggle way, so Sophie you'll have to help her while you wait for the bathroom. We'll start on hair and makeup after six." Angelina looked up from her parchment. "Any questions?"

The three of us looked at each other and shrugged.

"Let's get started, then."

The advantage to living with three other girls is that the process of dressing up becomes less arduous than it would be otherwise. Angelina's organization kept us timely and her talent with styling hair proved to be quite useful. Both Alicia and Viv were quite good with makeup and Viv had a knack for spotting problems before they started—a thread that had come undone or a button that hadn't quite fastened all the way. Alicia's eye for fashion was also a comforting safeguard against an unpleasant faux pas. As for me, I had fairly good knowledge of helpful charms and potions—Anti-Blistering Charm for shoes, Anti-Smudging Charm for makeup, Strengthening Solution for stockings—that made the process easier and the effects longer lasting. Between the four of us, we were armed to the teeth for the Yule Ball.

We were all fairly subdued as we prepared, aside from the occasional joke and Alicia's raucous, off-key rendition of "Hippogriff of Love", which she sang for the entire duration of her shower. We kept religiously to Angelina's proposed schedule, which, as always, was exceptionally accurate.

Viv was the first of us to be ready. In her robes of pale blue silk, she looked something like an ice princess. Her eyes seemed bluer and more striking with the subtle silvery blue eye makeup that Alicia had spent nearly ten minutes applying. Her hair was piled loosely on the top of her head and held in place with tiny rhinestone hairpins.

Alicia finished shortly after Viv. She had selected robes of sage green with very intricate gold embroidery on the sleeves. Viv had tried her best to match the color of Alicia's robes with the color of her eye makeup and the effect was very nice. Her hair hung down her back in thick glossy waves that Angelina had sprayed with various products.

I was the next to be done. Viv had done my makeup, emphasizing my eyes with moderately heavy eyeliner and had chosen a more muted shade for my lips. Angelina had done my hair up in a very soft twist. My robes got the seal of approval from Alicia, who said the soft gold was just perfect for my coloring and that the beading was beautiful, but tastefully understated (whatever that means).

Angelina was the last to finish up, mainly because her hair had taken so long. She had conjured up a very intricate braided hairdo, which was nicely offset by her simple dark purple robes. Alicia had chosen a more exotic look for Angelina's makeup and we all agreed that she looked absolutely stunning.

"Fred will be speechless," declared Viv as Angelina assessed herself in the mirror.

"I doubt it," replied Angelina, straightening her robes. "Sophie will play Quidditch the day Fred doesn't have something cheeky to say."

I groaned. "Is it possible not to think about that for one evening?"

"Oh, go on," laughed Viv. "You know I'm not much better on a broomstick."

Alicia glanced at the clock on her bedside table. "It's getting close…shall we go down?"

Angelina and Viv made murmurs of assent. After the four of us made last minute assessments and adjustments in front of the mirror, we filed downstairs accompanied by the group of fifth years who had asked us to be quiet the evening before. Katie Bell greeted us excitedly, looking quite lovely in a silky set of violet robes.

There were already a fair number of people gathered in the common room, despite the fact that we were not due in the Great Hall for another fifteen minutes or so. Some of the younger students were gathered in the corners of the room observing us and giggling intermittently.

"There they are," declared Angelina, craning her neck over the crowd. I followed Angelina closely as she made her way over to the fire where Fred, George, and Lee had taken over one of the couches.

I must say it was rather strange seeing the boys in dress robes. They didn't look bad or stupid, but it was quite different from what I was accustomed to. Fred and George were wearing robes of a similar style but Fred's were royal blue and George's were a dark emerald green. Lee had elected to wear robes of deep blood red. They all stood up as we arrived.

"You're late," declared Fred.

"Sod off, we're not," replied Angelina cheerfully.

"Whatever happened to 'Good evening, ladies. My, you look lovely!'?" asked Viv.

"It goes without saying," said George with a cheeky grin.

"Looks like Sophie got the well-mannered twin," said Angelina arching her eyebrow at Fred.

Fred shrugged. "Everyone knows I'm much handsomer than George."

"That is disputed," replied George, promptly.

"I don't know which one of us is luckier," said Angelina dryly.

"None of that," scolded Fred. "I put on dress robes for you, woman."

"Try wearing stockings and heels and then we'll talk," I replied.

"Let's keep Fred's private life out of this, shall we?" quipped Viv.

Fred's reply was cut short as people began moving toward the portrait hole.

"We ought to be leaving," said Alicia. She grabbed hold of Lee's arm. "Come on—you're supposed to be my escort you know."

Lee grumbled incoherently. Both Fred and George made a big show of bowing and offering their arms. I laughed and accepted George's arm.

"Come on, Viv, you'll walk with us," said Fred, offering her his free arm. Viv laughed.

"Thank you, Fred," she replied.

"But you know, as the ill-mannered twin, I ought to have slung you both over my shoulders and run out grunting and shouting," he said. Viv laughed and Angelina simply rolled her eyes.

"What stopped you, Fred?" I asked. A wicked gleam suddenly appeared in his eye and he made a move toward Angelina, who promptly swatted him.

"Fred Weasley, don't you dare…" she warned, but her eyes were sparkling with laughter.

"Sophie encouraged me," he replied.

"I did not!"

"Ah, but you did," said George, grinning.

"Now, George, as my date, shouldn't you be defending my honor?" I asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

George looked at the ceiling for a moment, pretending to be in deep thought.

"Not if you deliberately provoked him," he replied finally, with a smile. I opened my mouth to protest, but he put up his index finger. "I saw that glint in your eyes, Sophie. It was clearly mischievous."

"Perhaps you ought to have your eyes examined," I suggested, "for there was no such thing."

"I can spot mischief from kilometers away."

"You _cause_ mischief from kilometers away," I corrected him as we finally approached the portrait door.

He grinned. "Cheeky."

We proceeded from the portrait hole to the entrance hall, where most of the school seemed to be waiting. Vivian disappeared for a few minutes and came back with a very good-looking dark-haired boy with high cheekbones.

"This is Adam," she said, smiling. "Er…Adam, these are my friends Alicia, Lee, Fred, Angelina, Sophie, and George."

"_Enchanté_," said Adam with a dazzling smile. "Eet's so wonderful to meet Veevian's friends. She 'as said so much about you."

Viv rolled her eyes and laughed. "Come on, I want to show you off to a few more people."

"Git," declared Fred, once Viv was out of earshot.

"Agreed," said George and Lee.

"What?" said Alicia incredulously.

"You barely exchanged ten words with him!" I protested.

"And he was quite nice," stated Angelina.

"Doesn't matter," said Fred.

"I can sense these things," said George. "In fact, I'm detecting the presence of a particularly large git right now."

Draco Malfoy passed by us barely two seconds later with his date, a vile girl called Pansy Parkinson.

"It's a gift," said Fred solemnly.

"Oh, I give up," I replied.

"Someone ought to tell him that black does not suit him," declared Alicia, frowning in Malfoy's direction. She was right—in his high necked velvet robes, he looked paler than usual, not to mention fairly ridiculous. "And she's no better…that has to be the most hideous shade of pink I have ever seen."

The doors finally opened and after the champions and their dates had gone in, we were all allowed inside. Fred, George, Lee, Angelina, Alicia, and I sat down at a table together. Vivian would be dining with Adam and his friends, although she had arranged to meet us on the dance floor later.

Dinner was very good, as usual. Fred, George, and Lee, of course, were extremely entertained by their magical plates and the prospects that they offered. After he had finished eating, Fred ordered several additional helpings of mashed potatoes and proceeded to make sculptures on his plate.

"You know, you _could_ just sit and converse like a normal person," said Alicia.

"You forget that he's not a normal person," replied Angelina. She leaned over and squinted at his plate. "Is that supposed to be Hagrid?"

"Angelina, can't you see it's Filch?" replied Fred.

She frowned and squinted again. "Well…I suppose. That part in there looks like a beard."

By the time Dumbledore had asked us to all stand, Fred had produced a likeness of Filch that we all agreed was fairly lifelike. Sadly, his art was lost mere seconds later when the plates disappeared entirely and the tables swept toward the walls. Alicia barely muffled a happy squeak as the Weird Sisters came onstage with their instruments.

"This is so exciting," she whispered as the champions walked to the center of the floor. "I can't believe Dumbledore managed to book them."

Further discourse was cut short as Weird Sisters began to play the opening chords of a fairly slow tune. There was quite a range of emotions on the dance floor as the champions began to dance. Roger Davies looked rather awkward, but that could have been because he was exceptionally infatuated by his date, the exceptionally beautiful Fleur Delacour. Harry Potter looked as though he'd rather not be the center of attention, although Parvati Patil seemed to be rather keen on it all. Viktor Krum was a surprisingly good dancer and was guiding a smiling Hermione Granger around the floor with unexpected ease and grace. Cho Chang was poised and graceful and Cedric Diggory was just dashing.

"Come on," said George, tugging on my hand.

"What?" I asked.

"Let's dance," he said, pulling me toward the floor.

"George…"

"I rather think that Harry's had enough," he said, nodding at the boy in question. I knew they were fairly good friends, so I tried to swallow my hesitations about my two left feet.

We got to the floor with Fred, Angelina, Alicia, and Lee close behind. George took my hand and placed his other hand on my waist. I nervously placed my free hand on his shoulder and tried desperately to remember everything Viv had said to me the night before.

Despite all my worrying, there wasn't a whole lot to the simplified waltz we were doing. George was fairly adept, and after a few instances of stepping on his feet, I managed to relax a little and made fewer mistakes.

"You're awfully quiet," he said after a while.

"Just thinking," I replied. And I was, although most of my thoughts were focused on not tripping.

"You must do a lot of that, as you tend to be rather quiet most of the time."

"I haven't always got a lot to say," I explained.

"I have a hard time believing that," he replied.

"What?"

"I think you've got plenty to say, but you're too shy to say it. Or perhaps you're shy because the rest of us are so loud. Or maybe we're all too loud and you're normal, but quiet in comparison to us."

"You've put quite a lot of thought into this," I said with a laugh.

"I'm an intellectual."

"Now I have a hard time believing that," I replied.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" he asked with an arched eyebrow that suggested mock offense.

"I think you're quite clever, but you're much too…active to be an intellectual," I explained. "Clearly, you use your brain, but you turn your thoughts into actions rather than just keeping them as thoughts."

"So what am I then?" he asked.

I thought for a moment.

"A catalyst."

"A fancy word for 'troublemaker'," he declared. I laughed and he spun me around.

"Where did you learn to dance?" I asked him.

"Mum," he replied with a grin. "She thought there was a chance it would make us proper gentlemen."

"Perhaps there's still hope for you yet?" I asked.

He shook his head empathetically. "None at all."

I sighed in mock disappointment. "Tragic."

The song ended and the Weird Sisters launched into one of their popular rockers. However, the music wasn't loud enough to muffle the sound of a very familiar voice shouting angrily.

"_Comment__ oses_-_tu_?!"

I stopped and looked around. That was undoubtedly Vivian and she did not sound happy. George tugged on my sleeve.

"Sophie?"

"One moment…"

I had caught sight of Viv. She was standing in front of Adam and shouting in French, her face absolutely white with fury. She finally ended her angry tirade with a sharp slap to Adam's face. She spat another contemptuous phrase before turning on her heel and stalking angrily toward the gardens while some of the onlookers cheered. Adam looked startled and there was a red mark developing where Viv had slapped him.

I turned at George and opened my mouth to make an excuse.

"Go," he said before I could get the words out. I smiled slightly.

"Thanks."

I ran off the dance floor as fast as my heels could carry me and went out the doors and into the gardens. I did not have to go far to find Viv. She was sitting on a bench and positively quaking with anger.

"Viv, are you all right?" I asked, sitting down on the bench beside her.

"Sophie, are you certain that this Anti-Smearing Charm works?" she asked, ignoring my question.

"Positive. Why?"

"Because I don't want that wanker to spoil my makeup," she said, her voice quavering slightly. Her eyes were sparkling with unshed tears.

"What happened?" I asked insistently.

She took a deep, shaky breath.

"Well…it started at dinner. Offhand comments and such…I thought it wasn't anything to be upset about but…but then we started dancing and…" She cleared her throat and looked skyward, blinking furiously.

"H-h-his friends were nearby and they were talking to each other in French and he started saying that he was going to get into my knickers at the end of the night and that it would be easy because I was thickheaded. And it just got worse from there…he kept saying that I was one of those girls who wasn't good for anything but a shag. Then he tried to grab my bum…and that's when I started shouting at him."

I was horrified. "You _only_ slapped him?"

"Well, first I pointed out that even if _he'll_ try to shag anything with two legs, no one in their right mind would even _think_ about shagging him. Then I said that he had probably very little to boast of below the belt other than a variety of infections and if he even thought about touching me again, he'd have less than that. Then I slapped him and said that if he really wanted to insult someone behind their back, perhaps he ought not to assume that they can't understand him."

"Nice work," I said with a small laugh. "But—oh, Viv, you know that what he said was rubbish?"

"Well, yes," she said quietly, looking down at her folded hands. "But I can't help but feel hurt."

"I know…and you have every right to," I assured her. "But it's not true. I just wish that could negate any sort of hurt he caused…but I know it doesn't work quite like that."

She gave a glum half smile.

"Thanks, Sophie."

"If you'd like, I could ask Fred, George, and Lee to have a word with him," I suggested. "I'm sure they'd be quite happy to do so."

She smiled a little more broadly.

"No, I think he's been humiliated quite enough," she replied. I raised my eyebrows. "Well, it will never be quite enough, I suppose, but I think a slap and verbal abuse is enough for one night."

"Vivian?"

I turned around. Dan Crawford was standing on the garden path behind us, looking concerned.

"Dan," greeted Viv slightly breathily, her face lighting up like a Christmas tree.

"I saw what happened and I…well, I wanted to see if you were all right," he said, a slight flush creeping into his cheeks.

"Well, I ought to get back to my date," I said, rising from the bench and giving Viv a small wink. She flashed a brief smile in return. Dan quickly took my place on the bench and I strode away from the happy couple.

George was waiting for me just outside the doorway.

"Have you been waiting here all this time?" I asked.

"You're my date, aren't you?" he replied with a grin.

"You didn't have to—I wouldn't want to keep you from having fun," I said.

"You're my date," he repeated. "How's Viv?"

I gave him an abridged version of what had happened.

"Bloody git," he growled when I had finished. "Perhaps we ought to—"

"No," I said firmly, cutting him off. "Viv said that wouldn't be necessary."

"I was merely suggesting that we give him a lesson in manners," replied George.

"I know what you were suggesting," I said, "and the answer is still no. Besides, I think Dan Crawford is providing sufficient comfort."

George wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Not that sort of comfort," I clarified. "Now, come on, let's go back in."

I noticed George gave Adam a very hostile look as we passed him. The red mark on his cheek had swollen slightly and it looked as though he would have a bruise the next day. I smiled slightly—Viv would be pleased. I pulled George by the wrist to hurry him along, as he had slowed in his stride to give Adam the evil eye.

"Come on," I coaxed. "Shall we go sit?"

"Sit?" asked George, raising his eyebrows in surprise. "Of course not! We are going to go dance."

He suddenly grabbed both of my shoulders and began steering me toward the place where Fred, Lee, Angelina, and Alicia were still dancing.

"George, I'm not much of a dancer, you know," I protested as he guided me through the crowd.

"Not _yet_," he said in my ear. I could tell he was grinning.

George mercifully allowed me to remain standing still while I explained to the others where we had been, but after that was through, he allowed very few exceptions. And although I'm not the most confident dancer, it became easier and more fun as time went on. I was not quite as exuberant as Angelina and Fred—people were actually moving away from the pair lest they be hit by a flying limb—but I certainly became much more relaxed and unreserved than I normally was.

Viv and Dan eventually joined us. Viv looked much happier and Dan looked quite thrilled to be in her company. Viv was hugged by Angelina and Alicia and offered violence on her behalf from Fred, George, and Lee. She accepted the hugs and declined the violence (although she did say it was quite all right to glare at him). The dancing commenced shortly afterward.

During one slower song, I happened to glance over at the tables and noticed Fred and George's younger brother, Ron, was sitting alone at a table with Harry Potter. They both looked rather put out.

"You know, your brother and Harry Potter are sitting at that table by themselves," I said to George.

"What?" He turned me around so he could get a better look at the table. "What of it?"

"Well…d'you think we should invite them over?" I asked. "Perhaps they're lonely. It looks like their dates left them."

"Looks like their dates had a good reason," said George. "Ron looks like he's in a right foul mood."

"Maybe he's nervous," I suggested.

"Nah," said George. "More likely he's being a prat."

"Well—"

"You know, Sophie," said George. "Sometimes you're just too nice."

"Should I take that as a compliment or an insult?" I asked.

"Take it as a blessing and a curse," he suggested.

The rest of the ball passed in a blur of dancing and laughter. By the time the last song was played, I was surprised at how fast the evening had gone, and found myself wishing it could carry on for a little longer. The ball finally ended and we were all instructed to go back to our dormitories. We had the fortune to pass Adam on our way out, so we were all able to dispense glares accordingly.

Dan walked with us up to Gryffindor tower and waited outside with Viv as the rest of us began to file into the portrait hole. Of course, this was not complete without all sorts of comments and catcalls from Fred, George, and Lee. Angelina, Alicia, and I ushered them through the hole as quickly as possible in order to give Viv some semblance of privacy.

None of us were very eager to go to bed, so we all piled onto two of the couches. I went upstairs to change into my favorite pajamas—blue flannel pants, fuzzy woolen socks, and white long sleeved shirt. Everyone else decided that this was a good idea and followed my example, leaving me to reserve the two couches by myself. Viv came back in while everyone else was still changing. She was positively glowing.

"You certainly look happy," I commented as she waltzed in with a broad smile on her face.

"He asked me out," she said, her smile growing even bigger.

"Really? That's wonderful!"

"He was so darling—he said that he had been meaning to ask me for a while, but he was so nervous…and then he said 'Would you mind if I kissed you? I know you generally don't on the first date…well, is this a date really…?' and then he started going on and on, so I finally kissed _him_ so he'd shut up." She sighed happily.

"Oh, Viv, I'm so happy for you," I said, grinning happily. "You really deserve this…especially after your encounter with the world's biggest wanker."

"Talking about me, are you?" asked Fred coming down the stairs tailed closely by George, and Lee.

"Not quite," said Viv. "You've got to do a little more damage before you reach that level."

"Damn," said Fred, plopping down beside Viv. George and Lee sat down on either side of me. "I thought I was almost there."

"Well, with some hard work and ambition, I'm sure you can attain your goals," said Viv as she stood up.

"I'd better get started...so how's Dan?" asked Fred with an obnoxious grin.

Viv rolled her eyes and made her way over to the stairs. "I'm going to go change."

Viv disappeared up the spiral staircase just as Angelina and Alicia came bounding down. Angelina sat down next to Fred and Alicia plopped down on the couch next to Lee, giving him a look that was mildly accusatory.

"What?" he asked. "I didn't do anything!"

"I know," said Alicia. "I just don't trust you unsupervised."

Lee looked mildly affronted.

"I'm very responsible!" he objected.

"Responsible for trouble," clarified Alicia.

"Trouble can be quite beneficial," said Lee with a wise nod.

"For who?" asked Alicia.

"People in general," he said with a vague gesture.

"You're mad," declared Angelina.

"Speaking of mad, Viv looked awfully happy," observed Alicia.

"Dan asked her out," I explained.

"She deserves it after the night she's had," said Angelina.

"I know," I replied.

"Crawford's not nearly as much of a git as that other bloke," said Lee. Fred and George nodded in agreement. "He's very nice—helped me out of some trouble with Filch." He smiled at the memory. "That was a good day."

When Viv returned, she obligingly regaled us with the tale of Dan asking her out, which the girls very much enjoyed. Fred, George, and Lee all looked mildly bored and announced that Dan was "all right" and that it would be acceptable for Viv to date him. Viv just rolled her eyes. The conversation drifted from there. There was quite a lot of laughter, although it became rather subdued as the hour grew later. Alicia nodded off around two and George fell asleep on my shoulder around half past two. Around half past three, Fred, Lee, Angelina, Viv and I agreed that it was time for bed.

"George," I said quietly, shifting my shoulder slightly. "George, wake up. We're all going to bed now."

He stirred slightly and his eyes slid open..

"I'm glad you find us such stirring conversationalists," said Viv genially.

George grinned and yawned. "No offense, but it was quite an evening." He looked at me.

"Thanks, Sophie."

"You're welcome," I replied, not sure if he was thanking me for a nice evening or for serving as a pillow.

We all got up and headed off to our respective dormitories.

"Did you have fun?" asked Viv while Angelina and Alicia were both in the bathroom.

"Yes, it was fun," I admitted as I turned down the covers.

"You and George looked like you were having a nice time together," she observed with a sly smile that seemed to suggest something else.

"Well, of course," I replied. "He's George Weasley, after all."

Viv paused. "I think he fancies you."

"I think you are deluded by your own romantic conquests," I replied with a smile.

"You spent an awful lot of time together," she pointed out with a raised eyebrow.

"I was his date," I countered.

"The ball ended at midnight, Sophie."

I sighed and crawled under the covers. "We are friends."

"Friends can turn—"

"_Goodnight_, Vivian."

* * *

**A/N:** The French dialogue used in this chapter translates to "Charmed/Nice to meet you" and "How dare you?!" respectively. I don't speak French, so if there is a more proper way to say this, let me know. 


	5. Changes

**Disclaimer:** Solve for x:

JKR HP

JKR≠ BK ≠ HP

JKR + HP $$

BK + HP x

Solution: x FF ≠ $$

**Author's Note:** These past two weeks have been quite exciting for _Harry Potter_ fans, which largely explains my brief period of inactivity (with the exception of a new one-shot). Anyway, I _have_ read the seventh book and I'd love to talk about it—feel free to email me or PM me. I'd love to hear your thoughts.

On another exciting note, I went to see the fifth movie and…I also met James and Oliver Phelps who play Fred and George Weasley in the movies. It was quite exciting and they were _very_ nice. I only wish that I had been a little more articulate (I managed basic pleasantries, but that's it. I tend to get star struck quite easily).

And, as always, thank you very much for your feedback.

_Chapter 5: Changes_

Fred and George Weasley taught me many things. These lessons primarily revolved around basic common sense—for example, the importance of not consuming any food that just happened to be lying around the common room and treating every declaration of "Go on, it will be a laugh!" with a heavy dose of skepticism. Naturally, a lot of these lessons had to be learned the hard way. Naturally, the hard way sometimes involved minor personal injury and a trip to the infirmary.

I have previously mentioned the foolishness of underestimating the twins. I tended to do this on a slightly regular basis not because I doubted them, but because it was easy to forget how capable they were. Something that you might dismiss as inconsequential ended up being a key detail in their next elaborate plan. What's more, they had exceptional memories for such details. This proved to be a particularly disadvantageous quality if you happened to have made them a promise that you had absolutely no intention of keeping.

As always, I learned this the hard way.

I was having a very pleasant dream about Ramses Llewellyn (a Quidditch player known more for his looks than for his skill on a broom) when someone insistently shook me awake. I yawned and sleepily swatted at the intruder. It was the last Saturday of the Christmas holiday and I had every intention of sleeping in late while I could.

"Sophie, wake up." Alicia's voice broke through my dreamy semi-consciousness. I cracked one eye open.

"'S matter?" I mumbled.

"Fred and George say that you've got an appointment with them," she said.

"Tell Fred and George to bugger off," I replied, burrowing down deeper into my blankets. I had absolutely no idea what she was talking about nor did I particularly care. At that moment, sleep was my first priority.

"They said it's non-negotiable unless you'd like to forfeit ownership of your cat."

I opened my eyes and squinted at her.

"Does that ring any bells?" asked Alicia, arching an eyebrow.

I grimaced. I had thought Fred and George were aware that I had no intention of actually following through on that particular agreement.

"Oh."

"They've talked me into it as well," continued Alicia. She was wearing her coat, hat, and gloves, and looking slightly put out. "And if I've got to do it, then you've got to as well. You _know_ that it will end up as a battle of the sexes and Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger are the only other girls who agreed to participate."

"Why don't you get Angelina or Viv?" I asked.

"Viv's off with Dan and I tried waking Angelina, but she'd have none of it. As she didn't have a verbal contract with either of the twins, I can't really force her to come down. _You_ however…"

"I was hoping they'd forget," I sighed.

"You ought to know better by now," said Alicia matter-of-factly. I grumbled and grudgingly rolled out of the comfort of my bed. Chester meowed and stretched sleepily.

"It's a good thing I like you," I muttered to him as I began to dig in my wardrobe for a sweater

Ten minutes later, Alicia and I trooped downstairs. I had dressed myself in several layers and I hoped that it would be enough against the cold. Fred, George, and Lee were waiting at the foot of the stairs, while Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley were lounging in three armchairs near the fire.

"There she is!" declared Fred.

"The lady of the hour!" said George.

"Couldn't we have done this at a later time?" I asked, stifling a yawn.

"No. Conditions are too perfect," Lee informed me.

"We want to give you the best experience possible," stated Fred.

"How thoughtful," I replied dryly. "Who are we waiting on?"

"Ginny," said Fred. "She forgot her scarf."

"_Women_," sighed George, rolling his eyes. Alicia smacked him on the shoulder.

Ginny came breathlessly bounding down the stairs a few moments later and after a quick breakfast in the Great Hall, we proceeded outside.

"Right," said Fred once we were outside, his breath rising in mists before him. "George, if you will…"

George conjured nine snowballs with a flick of his wand and cast a Restoring Charm on all of them.

"That's about it, then," declared Fred, once we'd all received an enchanted snowball each.

"Rules: there are no rules," stated George, with a wicked grin.

"The fight begins…now!" Fred shouted.

Surprisingly, everyone remained perfectly still for several moments, as though we were all waiting for someone else to make a move. Then a voice broke the silence.

"Oi! Sophie!"

I turned just as a snowball collided with the center of my chest. I could feel the snow start to seep through the gaps between the buttons on my coat before the snowball rebuilt itself and tumbled to the ground. I hadn't seen who had thrown it, but I could tell easily enough from the cheeky grin on his face. I brushed the remaining snow off my coat before lobbing the snowball I had in my hand directly onto the side of George's head.

Then all hell broke loose.

As Alicia had predicted, the game rapidly turned into a battle of the sexes. George selected me as a target from the start and the competition between us quickly grew fierce. Fred and George soon formed an alliance and I spent a good five minutes running away from them while simultaneously trying to cast a Shield Charm over my shoulder. Alicia eventually joined forces with me and gave the twins something to think about with her deadly aim. It all spiraled out of control from there.

On the whole, the girls did quite well, despite the fact that the boys had a one person advantage in addition to the combined terror of the twins. Alicia's history as Quidditch Chaser proved to be quite helpful and, despite all appearances, Hermione was a force to be reckoned with. Ron discovered this the hard way when she had a large enchanted snowball chase him around the grounds after he laughed at her poor aim. Ginny particularly vicious in her attacks, which was probably the result of having six older brothers. We finally called a truce in the early afternoon when we were all too cold, soaked, and exhausted to continue.

"Well, how was it?" asked Fred as we headed back to the castle.

"Cold, wet, utterly exhausting," I replied, ticking off each quality on my fingers. "Shall I go on?"

"You forgot 'fun,'" he said with grin.

"Yes, I suppose it was fun in a hazardous sort of way," I conceded.

"Speaking of hazardous, where'd you learn to throw like that?" asked George as we entered the warmth of the entrance hall.

"My dad," I replied, pulling off my hat and unwinding my scarf from around my neck. "He said he wanted my sister and me to be able to hold our own against the boys."

"Have you thought about going out for Quidditch?" asked Harry Potter. "You'd make a decent Chaser."

Harry's query was rewarded by a hearty round of laughter from Fred, George, Lee, and Alicia.

"Obviously he has not heard of the legacy of the Amazing Tree Girl," stated George, laughing at Harry's puzzled expression.

"I'm sure that he will live a rich and full life without ever hearing it," I interjected. Despite all his fame, Harry Potter and I had never exchanged more than a few words. I wasn't particularly keen on making my first impression as the Amazing Tree Girl.

Unfortunately, Fred and George felt otherwise and insisted on not only telling Harry the story but acting it out as well. It was slightly embarrassing.

The next day (our very last day of holiday) was spent in the common room around the fire, which I was grateful for, as I was still feeling rather chilled and my throat was slightly scratchy.

When I awoke on Monday, the first thing I was aware of was the fact that my throat was hurting quite a lot. My nose had stuffed up during the night and my neck was slightly swollen. When I sat up to get out of bed, my entire body protested in that bone deep ache that is so characteristic of colds.

"You look rather peaky," Fred commented at breakfast.

"I think I might be catching something," I croaked in reply.

Fred raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like you've caught it."

"You ought to see Madam Pomfrey," suggested Angelina through a mouthful of bacon. "She'll fix you up in a minute."

"I don't think it's quite that bad," I insisted. "I'll wait and see how I feel."

"You know if you don't do something about it now, you're going to regret it later," stated Viv, giving me a reproachful look.

I sighed heavily. "I'm fine, really. My throat is slightly sore and I'm somewhat congested, but that's it."

"You must be a masochist," declared Viv. "Why put yourself through all this misery?"

"Vivian, my dad's a Healer and my mum's a Muggle nurse," I replied. "I know when medical attention is required."

George walked in at that moment and took a seat next to Fred. He was reaching for the pumpkin juice when he stopped and looked at me.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Good morning to you, too," I replied. "I'm eating breakfast—what are you doing here?"

"You _ought_ to be in the hospital wing," he said, giving me a critical once over. "You look like death."

"Thanks, George," I replied dryly.

"What? You look right knackered and you're terribly pale," he protested. "Otherwise you look quite nice."

"Her voice has gone all croaky, too," added Angelina helpfully.

I was about to issue another heavy sigh and tell them they were worrying far too much when the morning bell rang.

"Alicia and Lee missed breakfast again," I stated, wrinkling my nose as George hurriedly crammed an entire muffin into his mouth.

Angelina rolled her eyes. "They're both used to sleeping late from the holiday. I couldn't even wake Alicia this morning."

"I've saved some toast for them," said Viv, folding a napkin around two slices of toast and placing them carefully in her bag. She gave me a pointed look. "And don't change the subject, Sophie."

"Schop beng schtubber antf gov to hobbital wurng," mumbled George, spraying crumbs everywhere.

"You are disgusting," stated Angelina matter-of-factly.

"Fanks," said George, smiling through a mouthful of half-chewed food.

"Mum would be so proud," stated Fred, clapping George on the back and causing him to choke slightly. "He says to stop being stubborn and go to the hospital wing."

George coughed and gave a thumbs up in confirmation of Fred's translation.

I got very little rest from the four of them on the way to Charms, especially once George finished chewing his muffin and regained the power of coherent speech. When Alicia and Lee arrived (both slightly out of breath from running), they also joined in. This continued throughout the morning and well into the afternoon.

"You're worse than a mother hen, the two of you!" I said to Fred and George on our break. Everyone else was in Divination and Lee was napping on one of the common room couches.

"We're being quite reasonable," replied Fred.

"You're being quite ridiculous," I corrected him. "Now, seriously, I've got to finish this essay."

I began working on my essay (_Discuss— How Finnean the Foolish foiled the Peace Treaty of 1885_), occasionally pausing to sneeze or roll my eyes at either one of the twins. I suppose that my case wasn't aided by the fact that I dozed off in the middle of the second paragraph.

"Right," said Fred after I started and jolted myself back into wakefulness. "You're perfectly healthy."

"Off to the infirmary with you," declared George, rising from his chair.

"I'm fine," I insisted.

"You are not 'fine'," replied George. He placed a cool hand to my forehead. "You're feverish. Come on, on your feet."

"You're exaggerating," I countered as he pulled me to my feet. George looked at Fred, who also placed his hand on my forehead.

"He's not," declared Fred.

"Really, I—"

"Overruled," said George.

And they each grabbed hold of one of my arms and marched me up to the hospital wing.

Of course, Fred and George were right. Madam Pomfrey began fussing over me immediately and demanded to know why I had not come in sooner. When I said that I thought I didn't need to come to the hospital wing, she clucked disapprovingly and gave me a double dose of Pepperup potion.

"Now, I think some rest is in order," declared Madam Pomfrey as steam poured out my ears. "No more classes for you, today."

"But—" I began.

"Ah, ah, ah," she interrupted. She pointed to one of the empty cots. "Bed. The potion will take slightly longer to work because your cold is so far along. If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times: it's only _most_ effective in the early stages of illness!"

"Honestly, I feel much better." A spectacular sneeze followed this declaration. Madam Pomfrey gave stern look and ushered me over to an empty cot.

"You children never listen properly," she clucked. "If I didn't know better, I'd say your ears were all stopped up."

"Madam Pomfrey—"

"I shall write a note for your teachers," she said, ignoring my protests as she withdrew a pad of paper from her pocket. "I trust these gentlemen will be able to deliver it."

"Of course," replied Fred enthusiastically. Madam Pomfrey gave me a knowing look and began scribbling an excusal note.

"Now, Sophie, be a good girl and listen to Madam Pomfrey," instructed George.

"And be sure to get some rest," added Fred.

"I hate you both," I croaked. They simply grinned in response.

"Now, now, none of that," scolded Madam Pomfrey, handing Fred the note. "They were quite right to bring you here."

I didn't know it was possible for the twins to look any smugger.

"Go on," said Madam Pomfrey, gesturing at the bed. I sighed and crawled under the blankets.

"Goodbye, Sophie," chorused the twins as they exited.

I grumbled incoherently and began plotting revenge as Madam Pomfrey drew up the curtains around my bed.

* * *

Armed with a flask of Pepperup potion and a stern lecture on appropriate winter clothing, I returned to Gryffindor Tower that evening. Fred and George were appropriately smug and laughed at my threats of revenge. In the end I gave up and told them that it was their fault (however indirectly) that I became ill in the first place. The conversation spiraled into ridiculousness from there. 

It was not a very good time to come down with a cold. Although I only missed an afternoon of classes, I spent the better part of a week trying to catch up with my work. There was also the added pressure of Apparition lessons, which were challenging to say the least. The fact that I was the first person in my class to properly Splinch themselves didn't really make the lessons any more appealing.

"If you say one word about Sophie Fletcher the Amazing Splinching Tree Girl, I will hex you into next week," I warned Fred, George, and Lee as we exited the room. To their credit, they managed to hold off their commentary for two full days.

Term continued in the typical fashion of schoolwork, classes, and instances of larking about in order to avoid schoolwork or classes. This monotonous and stressful routine was finally broken by the Second Task, which was one of the most boring things I've ever witnessed. After the champions submerged themselves in the lake, there wasn't much for the spectators to do but cheer and listen to Ludo Bagman. It only got mildly interesting when Fleur Delacour was attacked by grindylows and then later when the judges argued about Harry Potter's score. Frankly, I could think of several better ways to spend an afternoon.

I finally turned seventeen in May and, by the grace of some higher being, managed to pass my Apparition test. The occasion was marked by laughter, celebration, and another exploding gift from Fred and George. However, shortly after my birthday, I found myself in the midst of preparing for exams. We didn't have N.E.W.T. exams this year, but all of my teachers made a point of mentioning that our exams would be as difficult as N.E.W.T.s themselves in order to properly prepare us. It was a highly stressful time for all of us, with perhaps the exception of Fred and George, who somehow managed to maintain their carefree attitude toward academics in general.

By some cruel twist of ill fortune, the Third Task happened to fall on the last day of exams, which made it slightly difficult for any of us to concentrate properly. I expected the Third Task to be more engaging and exciting than its predecessors and actually found myself looking forward to it as I battled my way through my exams.

The morning of the Third Task dawned bright and beautiful. I was feeling oddly relaxed about my remaining exams and I went to breakfast in a good mood. I was further cheered when I unfolded the paper and found Rita Skeeter's latest article on Harry Potter. Rita Skeeter was the sort of journalist whose work could easily double as satire because she was often so ill-informed. I only read her articles because they were often amusing in their absurdity (although I'm sure that was not her intent).

Skeeter's latest endeavor was to discredit Harry Potter by questioning his mental stability. Not many people at the Gryffindor table were particularly impressed—Fred and George immediately turned it into a mockery—possibly because it was Rita who wrote it. However, Harry had also been elevated to hero-like status among the Gryffindors. Everyone was quite excited at the prospect of his victory that evening. Supplies had already been procured for the evening's victory party. Fred and George's mum and eldest brother, Bill, had even come to watch Harry compete.

"You know," said Viv to the twins as we made our way to Transfiguration after lunch, "your brother is quite good looking."

Fred and George looked mildly disgusted.

"Please, Viv," said Fred, waving his hand dismissively.

"You know we're the best looking in the family," stated George.

"Besides, you're an attached woman," added Fred.

"I can still _look_," protested Viv.

"But you shouldn't," scolded Fred, wagging his finger obnoxiously in her face.

"The betrothal will be announced next week and we couldn't possibly do with a scandal," added George.

Viv rolled her eyes. However, she had Dan _had_ been getting rather close lately and were rarely seen apart.

"She's right, you know," Alicia chimed in. "He _is_ quite good looking."

Fortunately, we arrived in the Transfiguration classroom mere seconds later and further discussion was cut short by Professor McGonagall.

My exams were completed by evening, allowing me to bask in pure and absolute freedom from academics. Dinner was excellent, as always, but tonight it was particularly magnificent in light of the upcoming tournament (and perhaps in light of the end of exams). The excitement was tangible throughout the many courses and when Professor Dumbledore asked for the champions to leave for the stadium, the Great Hall erupted in cheers. The Gryffindor table, of course, cheered loudest for Harry Potter, who looked both excited and nervous. I felt rather glad that I wasn't in his place.

Five minutes later, Dumbledore asked us to leave for the stadium in an orderly fashion. Of course, it resembled well-ordered chaos more than anything, but Dumbledore did not seem bothered, being in a rather festive mood himself.

The seven of us were able to get seats in the front row. Mrs. Weasley and Bill elected to sit near us, causing both Alicia and Viv to burst into a fit of giggles. Fred and George spent the remaining time before the start of the Third Task encouraging them both to shut up. Ludo Bagman finally got up and announced the Third Task and the placing of the four champions—Harry and Cedric tied for first, Viktor Krum in second, and Fleur Delacour in third. This effectively (and thankfully) silenced Alicia and Viv.

"So…on my whistle, Harry and Cedric!" announced Bagman. "Three—two—one—"

And with a quick blast on the whistle, Harry and Cedric were off and running. The crowd fairly erupted. I found myself yelling and cheering with all the enthusiasm I had lacked for the First and Second Tasks. _This_ was exciting.

Krum and Fleur went off into the hedge maze shortly after. We couldn't see much other than occasional flashes of light, but it didn't matter—everyone was too excited to care.

Fleur Delacour was the first to drop out. She appeared to be unconscious when one of the teachers managed to extract her from the maze. The eruption of boos and hisses from the Beauxbatons students was easily muffled by the cheers coming from Hogwarts and Durmstrang students. However, Durmstrang's elation was short-lived, as Viktor Krum was shortly removed from the maze as well.

The Hogwarts students screamed. Alicia and I jumped to our feet and hugged each other as rival cheers of "Cedric! Cedric!" and "Harry! Harry!" erupted in the air. I could scarcely hear my own shouts over the roar.

I'd like to say that there was a definitive point in the evening where something changed, something palpable that caused the crowd to pause and question what was wrong. But no such moment came. No one in the crowd felt the slightest amount of unease until Harry Potter emerged at the edge of the maze, clutching the Triwizard Cup and the body of Cedric Diggory.

At first I assumed that Harry was exhausted and Cedric had merely collapsed or been Stunned. But as the crowd continued to press in toward Harry and as Dumbledore's face became exceedingly worried, it became apparent that something was horribly wrong.

And then a voice cried out: "Cedric Diggory is _dead_!"

I felt my knees wobble as this news was repeated at varying volumes throughout the crowd. He couldn't be…and yet as I looked at his still body, I knew that it was true. My stomach lurched and I felt like crying and vomiting at the same time.

"He c-c-can't…he just can't be…" said Alicia shakily.

"Harry, is Harry all right?" asked Mrs. Weasley shrilly, her face white as she made her way out of the stands, Bill following closely behind.

I felt dizzy with shock. Cedric Diggory was dead. The kind and handsome boy who had looked so young and alive at the Yule Ball was dead. He was a favorite for Head Boyship next year and people were already speculating on how he would excel in the real world. Now all that promise and possibility that had existed in his young life was gone. Cedric Diggory was gone. I won't claim to have known him well, but I can't deny that I was unaffected—you don't have to know someone to realize that their death was a terrible loss.

"All students report back to their houses _immediately_," boomed Professor McGonagall's magically magnified voice, breaking into my thoughts. I stood up with the others and found myself caught up in the flow of people.

People were whispering and crying as we made our way back to Gryffindor Tower, creating a wall of sound around me. But despite all the noise, several distinct whispers made their way to my ears.

"Did you hear—?"

"—says that You-Know-Who did it…"

"He says he's back!"

"No…!"

"I heard him…"

"But he can't be!"

"He's dead, isn't he?"

"Dumbledore always said—"

My hands were shaking and I felt as though my legs would collapse out from under me, although I couldn't tell if it was a result of Cedric's death or the rumors flying around me. I tried to block out the talking. I didn't want to think about that. Not now.

I was quite relieved when I was finally able to sink down onto the couch in the common room. My hands shook uncontrollably and there was a persistent lump in my throat. The others look equally upset. Viv's face was streaked with tears and Alicia was working hard to control her tears. Angelina was speechless. Fred and George were as quiet and stony-faced as I had ever seen them. Lee was bent over and cradling his head in his hands.

"What happened?" asked Angelina after a long while, her voice thick and scratchy.

George shook his head. "I don't know."

"Who would want to kill Cedric Diggory?"

None of us answered, but it was largely unspoken. No one would want to kill Cedric Diggory. It had to have been one of the perils of the maze…it just had to be. Otherwise…I shuddered involuntarily.

It was quite apparent that no one would be getting much sleep tonight. Professor McGonagall finally came in very late in the evening, looking quite pale, tired, and sad. Viv and Angelina had fallen asleep a few hours ago, both leaning on Fred for support and Lee had dozed off on Alicia's shoulder. Fred, George, Alicia, and I were some of the only people still awake. Professor McGonagall looked at the four of us wearily.

"It's after three," she informed us.

"Professor, what happened?" asked Fred.

Her expression tightened, as though she were trying to hold back a strong emotion. "I'm afraid I cannot say at present, Mr. Weasley."

Perhaps it was something in her tone, but Fred didn't push for more answers as he normally would. He simply nodded slowly and gravely.

"You ought to be in bed," she told us, almost half-heartedly. We all returned her gaze and she seemed to realize that it would be rather pointless endeavor to push it further. "Very well." She waved her wand and several folded blankets appeared on each of our laps. We all looked at her in surprise.

"You may as well be comfortable," she said, with the semblance of a sad smile.

She proceeded to conjure blankets for the other Gryffindors who had fallen asleep in the common room before bidding us goodnight and advising that we try to get some rest.

The four of us arranged the blankets over the three sleepers as best we could. I tucked my own blanket over my lap and drew my knees up to my chest. I sat up for a while longer, feeling both awake and exhausted.

"Go to sleep," urged George quietly.

"Hmm?" I replied.

"You've been yawning for the past ten minutes," he informed me. "Go to sleep."

I returned his gaze for a moment, lacking the energy to argue.

"Come on," he said, nudging me slightly with his elbow. "I'll even be your pillow if you'd like. I owe you that favor from the Yule Ball."

He smiled slightly and I gave a faint smile back.

"Thanks, George," I said quietly.

"You're quite welcome," he replied. "Now go to sleep."

I leaned up against his shoulder and my eyes slid shut. I was vaguely aware of George's steady breathing as I drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

I woke up the next morning with a crick in my neck and Lee's foot in my face. I pushed the offending limb out of my face and wondered how he could have put himself into such a bizarre position. And in that brief moment with the early morning sun shining across my face, I forgot that Cedric was dead and my world seemed almost whole again. 

But then I remembered why I was still in my clothes and why I was sleeping on the common room couch and that perfect illusion shattered and the lump returned to my throat.

I sat up slowly, careful not to wake George. Viv had woken up also, and was rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"Morning," she said quietly once she noticed me.

"Morning," I replied. She looked tired and slightly careworn. "All right?"

"Better," she replied. "You?"

"Sleep helped," I said. She nodded slightly, taking notice of the blanket in her lap, looking slightly puzzled. "McGonagall," I explained. "She came 'round about an hour after you fell asleep."

"Did she say anything?"

"She said she can't tell us anything right now."

Viv frowned. "Don't we have a right to know what happened? A student d-died."

"Perhaps…perhaps they need to fill out paperwork?" I offered lamely.

"Maybe," shrugged Viv.

"Or…" I began.

"Or what?" she asked when I failed to follow up.

I shook my head and tried to suppress another shudder. "Nothing…I just…people were…"

"It can't be," said Viv, shaking her head. I could tell from the frightened look in her eyes that she had heard the same rumors.

"It's just…all the secrecy…I don't know what to think," I replied.

"It could be anything," said Vivian, trying to look reassuring. We were both quiet after that.

Answers were not immediately forthcoming. Despite the fact that we were all obviously hungry for any sort of information, Dumbledore remained oddly silent and merely requested that we not ask Harry any questions about what had happened. Of course, this was the one thing that people least wanted to do, as Harry had the answers that we so desperately needed.

Surprisingly, Fred and George were not forthcoming about any information they gained from speaking to their mother.

"You're not going to tell us _anything_?" asked Lee incredulously after the twins had returned from lunch with their mother.

"I think it's best we not, mate," replied Fred in an oddly somber tone.

And something about his voice and expression silenced Lee and further added to the misgivings that I so desperately wanted to ignore.

The remaining week was quite strange. People made an effort at celebrating the end of exams, but it all seemed rather strained. Smiles didn't always reach the eyes and laughter often sounded tinny and sharp, as though it were trying to overcompensate in light of the recent tragedy. Still, we tried. Old habits were picked up, jokes were made, and sometimes we could forget about what happened and forget that we still didn't know why it had happened. After every dinner, everyone would anxiously look toward the faculty table, hoping that Dumbledore would answer our questions and provide us with some sort of comfort. But every meal was ended with silence from the Headmaster and the stall in his explanation made me increasingly uneasy and nervous.

Finally, on the last evening of the school year, Dumbledore rose from his seat. The Great Hall became as silent as I had ever heard it.

"The end of another year," began Dumbledore, his blue eyes fixed steadily on the surrounding students. "There is much that I would like to say to you all tonight, but I must first acknowledge the loss of a very fine person who should be sitting here enjoying our feast with us. I would like you all, please, to stand, and raise your glasses, to Cedric Diggory."

Everyone stood, some crying as we all raised our glasses to Cedric.

"Cedric was a person who exemplified many of the qualities that distinguish the Hufflepuff house," said Dumbledore once we had returned to our seats. "He was a good and loyal friend, a hard worker, he valued fair play. His death has affected you all, whether you knew him well or not. I think that you have the right, therefore, to know exactly how it came about."

I expected—perhaps hoped—that Dumbledore would describe an accident, perhaps a creature-induced death, or a spell gone wrong. And if it wasn't an accident, then it had to have been the work of a madman or a convict. It had to be.

But even with the whispered rumors, I never, ever expected Dumbledore to say what he said next.

"Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort."

My first reaction was, like any witch or wizard, to shudder at the use of the name. But this sensation was followed by the most intense shock that I had ever felt, a fear that permeated every part of my body. You-Know-Who had been vanquished when I was two years old and I had grown up with the idea that he was gone for good. Dumbledore's announcement completely crumbled my sense of security. Viv's jaw had dropped slightly and Alicia had gone terribly pale. I must have looked particularly disturbed as well, because Fred reached over and squeezed my shoulder reassuringly.

"The Ministry of Magic does not wish me to tell you this," said Dumbledore while people whispered around me. "It is possible that some of your parents will be horrified that I have done so—either because they will not believe Lord Voldemort has returned, or because they think I should not tell you so, young as you are. It is my belief, however, that the truth is generally preferable to lies, and that any attempt to pretend that Cedric Diggory died as a result of an accident, or some sort of blunder of his own, is an insult to his memory.

"There is somebody else who must be mentioned in connection with Cedric's death. I am talking, of course, of Harry Potter."

Nearly every head in the Great Hall swiveled to look at the fourth year in question. He was slightly pale and the look in his eyes suggested that he had aged many years in a very short time.

"Harry Potter managed to escape Lord Voldemort," continued Dumbledore. "He risked his own life to return Cedric's body to Hogwarts. He showed, in every respect, a sort of bravery that few wizards have ever shown in facing Lord Voldemort, and for this, I honor him." Dumbledore raised his goblet again and we all drank to Harry. "The Triwizard Tournament's aim was to further and promote magical understanding. In light of what has happened—of Lord Voldemort's return—such ties are more important than ever before."

Dumbledore looked around at all the students from all the different schools.

"Every guest in this Hall will be welcomed back here at any time, should they wish to come. I say to you all, once again—in light of Lord Voldemort's return, we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided. Lord Voldemort's gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust. Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts open.

"It is my belief—and never have I so hoped that I am mistaken—that we are all facing dark and difficult times. Some of you in this Hall have already suffered directly at the hands of Lord Voldemort. Many of your families have been torn asunder. A week ago, a student was taken from our midst.

"Remember Cedric. Remember, if a time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory."

There were very few dry eyes in the Hall in the silence that followed. It was a moment that was beautiful, sad, and terrifying in its entirety. I still cry whenever I think of it.

* * *

The train ride home was quite uneventful. Fred and George disappeared to another part of the train and Angelina, Lee, and I all fell asleep shortly after we left Hogwarts. Alicia spent the whole train ride with her nose in one of Viv's romance novels (_Werewolf Lover _by Priscilla A. Faire) and Viv spent the entire train ride in a compartment with Dan and some of his friends.

The train station seemed more crowded than usual, perhaps in light of the recent tragedy. People seemed to be greeting each other much more enthusiastically—hugs were tighter and kisses more plentiful. I spotted my own family far back in the crowd.

"Well," I said to Angelina and Alicia after I had pulled my trunk from the train, "I suppose this is it."

"Owl me over the summer," said Angelina. "We'll meet up before school begins again, all of us."

Alicia nodded in agreement. "I won't be able to tolerate my family for more than a month."

"_There_ you are," said Viv, hauling her trunk behind her. "I've been looking for you everywhere."

"How's Dan?" asked Alicia playfully.

"Did you have a nice goodbye?" teased Angelina.

"Shut up," replied Viv, cheerfully. "He's with his parents right now—they're quite lovely people."

"It's good to have nice in-laws," I remarked. Viv elbowed me.

"I better see you over the summer," stated Angelina.

"Of course," agreed Viv. "I'll be in France visiting Mum's family for a month, but we must meet up as soon as I return."

"And you all must write," added Alicia. "I'll be bored after two weeks of holiday, I know it."

Viv glanced over the heads of various parents.

"Sophie, it looks like our parents have found each other," she said. "Ah, yes. And there's Dad tapping at his watch and looking impatient. Hi Dad!" She waved cheerily at her father, who rolled his eyes. Viv laughed. "Honestly, he makes it too easy. Come on, Sophie, your sister looks as though she may die of boredom."

The four of us said our final goodbyes and were briefly interrupted by Fred, George, and Lee, who suggested we not miss them too greatly over the summer. We all laughingly promised we'd try very hard not to. We separated in search of our respective families, dragging our trunks behind us.

Mum nearly squeezed all the air out of me when we finally met up with them.

"Mum, I can't breathe," I gasped.

"Oh, Sophie, I'm just so glad you're safe. I was so worried," she replied. And indeed, she looked much more tired than usual.

"Mum, I'm safe if Dumbledore's headmaster," I assured her.

Dad rolled his eyes as he drew me in for a hug. "That's what I've been telling her, but she won't listen to me."

"Hi, Sophie," greeted Brenna, my younger sister as she hugged me tightly around the waist. She was eleven and most likely going to Hogwarts next year.

"Hi, Brenna," I replied. "Did you have a good term? You didn't owl me once."

"I was busy," she said vaguely. I rolled my eyes.

"Right. Too busy to write to your favorite sister."

"You're my only sister," she said.

"Exactly," I replied. "That's why you should cherish me all the more."

Brenna rolled her eyes.

"Sophie, it's so good to see you!" said Mrs. Archer, coming over to embrace me. She had dark curly hair like Viv's, although she was graying slightly at her temples. "You look lovely."

"She gets lovelier every time I see her," declared Mr. Archer with a big grin that matched Viv's mischievous smile. "Good to see you, love."

After further greetings were extended, the Crawfords came over to meet Mr. and Mrs. Archer. Dan looked rather nervous, but seemed to relax when it became apparent that both sets of parents got on well and that the Archers weren't at all intimidating. By the time we left the station, most of the families had departed. The Archers came over for dinner, as was our custom.

And despite the fact that I was starting to miss the freedom of Hogwarts (especially when Mum insisted that I go to bed at a reasonable hour), it was quite nice to fall asleep in my own bed.

* * *

**A/N:** All of Dumbledore's dialogue in this chapter was written by J.K. Rowling and originally appears in _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_. The narrative bits were written by me. 

Somehow, I don't feel that this chapter is quite right, but I've edited to death and I'm reluctant to do more lest I kill it completely. However, I'm quite excited about the next chapter, which will be exciting (or at least I think it is). As always, please review!


	6. Consequences

**Disclaimer:** If I owned _Harry_ _Potter_, Peeves would so NOT have been cut out of the movies (this also goes for S.P.E.W., Winky, the swamp, the first few chapters of the fourth book, Oliver Wood's part in the third book, St. Mungo's, the Quidditch plotline in the fifth book, the whole prefect plotline in the fifth book, Firenze's part in the fifth book, the deathday party in the second book…you get the idea).

**Author's Note:** I recently realized that Sophie and Mundungus Fletcher share a last name. I didn't mean to do this—I saw the name 'Fletcher' somewhere else and I liked it more than 'Lane', which was Sophie's original last name, so I chose 'Fletcher' instead, completely forgetting about Mundungus. Anyway, that's the story behind that.

Once again, thanks for the reviews! They all made me smile. I hope you enjoy this chapter…so far it's one of my favorites. Please let me know what you think!

_Chapter Six: Consequences_

Summer was fairly uneventful, but looking back on it now I realize that it was the calm before the storm. In my little world, things were as normal as they could be. I had a summer job at Flourish and Blotts, which was quite convenient, as I got a small discount on merchandise. In need of a project, I started a small newsletter called "The Blotter", which had book reviews and recommendations. It was moderately successful and Mr. Flourish was so pleased that he increased my salary by a whole Galleon.

When I wasn't at work, I was making use of the large amount of spare time at my disposal. I didn't see much of Viv, as her trip to France was immediately followed by an invitation from the Crawfords to spend a few weeks in Spain with them on holiday, but she owled me fairly often. Angelina, Alicia, and I managed to spend some time together. Lee occasionally joined us, although I mainly heard from him in the form of an owl bemoaning our homework for History of Magic (or, as Lee called it, The Most Heinous Assignment in Recorded History). Fred and George, however, were strangely unavailable throughout most of the summer. Their excuses were believable, but the frequency of their absences was slightly alarming. They did, however, write fairly frequently (although many of their letters involved some sort of prank).

Although that summer was fairly normal on the surface, things were beginning to change. As Dumbledore predicted, the Ministry of Magic chose to refute the claims that You-Know-Who was back. _The Daily Prophet_ was clearly under the Ministry's influence—any recorded news was frivolous and was often accompanied by stabs at Harry Potter and eventually Dumbledore himself.

I have to admit that at first it seemed as though Harry could have been mistaken in his assertion that You-Know-Who was back. It didn't seem possible that the Ministry and the _Prophet_ could go about their business as usual when there was a Dark wizard at large. However, the day that they removed Dumbledore from the Wizengamot was the day that things began to change within my family.

"Outrageous!" Dad bellowed early one morning, rousing me from my sleep.

"Jacob, keep your voice down, you'll wake the girls," said Mum gently.

"How could they—look at this, will you!"

Curious, I slipped out of bed and padded into the kitchen, ignoring the fact that it was barely past six. Mum was sipping at her coffee and looking at the paper quite calmly; Dad looked furious.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"They've removed Dumbledore from the Wizengamot!" exclaimed Dad.

I was slightly taken aback. I didn't really follow the legal system all that closely, but I was aware of the significance of this action.

"What? Why?" I asked.

"He's 'too old', they think his mind's going," grumbled Dad. "If Dumbledore's going senile, I'll eat my hat."

"What's wrong?" yawned Brenna, as she walked into the kitchen. "I heard shouting."

Mum looked pointedly at Dad as she took another sip of her coffee.

"Ministry of Magic reckons Dumbledore's mind is going," I replied. "They've removed him from the Wizengamot."

Brenna paused momentarily, looking slightly perplexed.

"But he's so _nice_!" she finally exclaimed. Dad's angry look relaxed slightly and a smile played at the corners of his mouth. Brenna had met Dumbledore when she came to visit me in the hospital wing when I had appendicitis over the Christmas holiday. Dumbledore had pulled a Chocolate Frog from behind her ear. Although she was fairly used to magic, she was deeply impressed by the Headmaster nonetheless.

"Yes, well, it's much more complicated than that, poppet," said Dad gently.

"Jacob," began Mum, folding up the newspaper, "if you think the Ministry's off their heads, then…"

She and Dad exchanged a meaningful look. Dad sighed very heavily.

"Then…it means that he's back."

"Who's back?" asked Brenna, looking slightly confused. I felt rather envious, as the dark rumors I had heard had evidently not reached her ears.

"You-Know-Who," said Dad quietly.

Brenna gasped and clapped her hands to her mouth. My stomach lurched slightly. Hearing Dumbledore say it was one thing, but it was quite different hearing it from my father.

"What are we going to do?" I asked, shakily.

"Nothing, for the moment," Dad replied. I frowned slightly.

"What _can_ we do, Sophie?" said Mum in response to the look on my face. "He's not exactly out in the open right now. The _Prophet_ would have a hard time covering that up."

"But when he _does_ make himself known, what will we do then?" I asked.

Dad paused for a moment. "I think we will have a better idea of what to do when the time comes. But my first priority is to keep this family safe." He glanced at the clock. "Oh bugger, I'm late again. Preston won't let me hear the end of it."

He Disapparated before I could ask another question.

"Why don't you both go back to bed?" suggested Mum. "Sophie, you don't have to be up for another few hours."

I nodded and headed back to my room, with Brenna trailing behind me. And even though I was quite tired, I still had a difficult time falling back to sleep.

* * *

Dad seemed to be hoping for some sort of change, but the Ministry continued to not acknowledge You-Know-Who and the _Prophet_ continued to defame those who believed him to be back. Dad only kept our subscription because it served as decent entertainment (and he rather liked the crossword puzzles). 

Viv was strangely silent about the entire affair. In my letters, she would more or less ignore what I'd written about the Ministry or the _Prophet_ and make a general statement that didn't really express any sort of opinion. I wasn't entirely sure what to make of it—I finally assumed that she was too busy with her holiday to give sufficient thought to such matters in letters.

Brenna got her letter from Hogwarts and was positively over the moon with happiness. Dad and Grandfather once again bet on which house she'd be in, despite Mum's constant reminders that it didn't work last time. Dad picked Ravenclaw and Grandfather picked Hufflepuff, a reverse of what they'd selected for me.

August went by rather quickly, as it is wont to do, and soon Brenna and I were packing our trunks for Hogwarts. Brenna was gradually becoming frantic with nerves, despite my frequent assurances that she would be fine.

The morning we were supposed to leave was utter madness as the four of us scrambled to get everything together. Mum got rather weepy in the car, as she and Dad would now have the house to themselves. I reminded her that Brenna would be home over holidays and I would probably be living with them until I could afford a flat of my own. Mum seemed to cheer up slightly after this.

We got to the train station at half past ten. Brenna became increasingly nervous the closer we got to Platform 9 ¾ and frequently asked me to sit with her on the train. I gently refused and said that the train ride to the school was one of the best times to meet other first years and while she was always welcome to spend time with me and my friends, it was important that she also make her own friends. I also reminded her that Viv and I met on the train up to Hogwarts and perhaps she would also meet her best friend on the train. She did not seem entirely comforted by this, but she looked less slightly less ill.

"Sophie!" exclaimed a voice as I forced my trunk into the luggage compartment. I turned around. Viv was standing on the platform waving. I grinned, picked up Chester's traveling basket, and headed over to her. She had cut a good amount of her hair off—her waist-length curls were now roughly shoulder length.

"Look at you!" I said as we embraced. "Your hair looks fantastic!"

"Do you think so?" she asked, tugging on a wayward strand. "I'm not certain I like it much."

"It looks lovely," I assured her. "When did you get it cut? I haven't seen you all summer."

"I'm sorry about that," she apologized. "It's just I was in France and then Dan invited me to go to Spain with his family…it was all rather mad."

"It's all right," I replied.

"Thanks, Sophie," she said with a smile. Chester complained loudly from his basket.

"Oh hush," I scolded. "Honestly, you'd think I was torturing him."

"That's why I leave my cat home during the school year," said Viv. She glanced at the crowd and a smile broke out on her face. "Oh look! There's Alicia!"

We reunited with Alicia and were quickly joined by Angelina. There were many hugs and exclamations over Viv's hair. Viv left us to go meet up with Dan, who was looking quite freckled and tan himself. Brenna found me shortly afterward and attached herself to my sleeve.

"Oh, this must be your sister!" exclaimed Alicia with a kind smile.

"Yes, this is Brenna," I replied. "You've met a few times, I think—she's a first year this year. She's rather nervous."

"Sophie!" complained Brenna, flushing slightly.

"What? It's nothing to be ashamed of!" I replied.

"It's perfectly healthy," agreed Angelina.

"But honestly, there's nothing to be frightened of," assured Alicia. "Everyone's quite nice. And…" She leaned in slightly and lowered her voice, "I'm one of the most feared prefects among the four houses, so if anyone gives you trouble, you let me know and I'll knock some sense into them."

"I told you so," I said, nudging Brenna lightly. She grinned at Alicia.

"Brenna, I didn't know you were here yet!" declared Viv as she came back to us, arm in arm with Dan. She dropped Dan's arm to envelop Brenna in a tight hug. "She's my favorite Fletcher," she said conspiratorially.

"Of course she is," I replied. "She's much more adorable than the rest of us."

"That she is," Viv said. "Now, I've got a mission for you," she said to Brenna. "You've got to make as many friends as possible on the train and then you must tell me all about them."

"Are you serious?" asked Brenna, failing to conceal a disbelieving grin.

"Of course, I'm serious!" exclaimed Viv, adopting an expression of mock offense. "Honestly, this is no joking matter."

"All ri-ight," sighed Brenna, but she had a big smile on her face.

"Good girl," said Viv. She turned her gaze to me. "Your parents are looking for you both, by the way. It appears that you haven't said goodbye."

"Oh, right," I said. "Come on, Brenna."

Brenna and I departed from the group to find our parents, who had met up with the Archers.

"There you are," said Mum. She drew Brenna into a tight hug. "You have a wonderful term, dear. There's no reason to be nervous."

"She'll be just fine," assured Dad, drawing Brenna into a hug as soon as Mum released her. "Isn't that right, poppet?"

"I'll try," said Brenna, her voice trembling slightly.

"Be sure to look after your sister, Sophie," said Mum as she hugged me.

"I don't need looking after!" protested Brenna.

"That's what sisters are for, Brenna," said Dad. "Give her here, Maggie, I've got to say goodbye as well."

"Promise you'll be careful," said Mum as I hugged Dad.

"Only if you promise you won't worry," I countered.

"That's what mothers do, Sophie," she stated, smiling slightly. The train blew a shrill whistle.

"Go on, you don't want to miss your train," said Dad.

"We've got ten minutes yet," I replied, glancing at the clock.

"Your father's right—go on," said Mum. Brenna ran back for a few quick hugs. Mum and Dad urged her forward and she joined back up with me, occasionally stealing a glance over her shoulder.

"All right, I'll walk you on the train, but you've got to find your own compartment," I said. Brenna nodded, still looking rather doubtful and slightly pale. "Look, you're going to be fine, I promise you."

"Excuse me?" asked a small and timid sort of voice. A blonde first year was standing in back of me, looking rather nervous, but brave nonetheless.

"Yes? Do you need help?" I asked, trying to smile in a helpful manner.

"Er, well…I heard you talking and I was wondering if you wanted to sit with us." She looked at Brenna. "I've met two other girls and we were going to sit together and you looked like you were nervous, just like us, and I thought…" She trailed off hopefully. "I'm Kathleen, by the way."

"I'm Brenna," said Brenna, shyly. She looked up at me expectantly.

"Well, don't let me keep you," I said, smiling. Brenna grinned and Kathleen gestured at a redhead and a brunette who were waiting a little farther along on the platform. They both began chatting quite animatedly, as though they had known each other for years. I shook my head and boarded the train.

I found Angelina in a compartment a few cars down. She had already changed into her school robes and had her nose buried in a book called _Winning Quidditch Strategies_.

"Hello," I greeted as I opened the compartment door, sitting down on an empty seat.

"Where's your sister?" asked Angelina, putting her book down.

"Sitting with some first years," I replied, shifting Chester's traveling basket on my lap. The cat meowed mournfully in protest. "Oh shut up, Chester. Where is everyone?"

"Viv's with Dan."

"Typical."

"She said she'd try to visit, but I have a feeling she'll be rather…occupied," said Angelina with a sly smile. "Alicia's in the prefect's carriage, of course, but she's going to come down here as soon as she's able. Lee is here," She nodded at a bag on the seat next to me, "but he went back outside. He said something about an 'opportunity', so I expect Fred and George will be with him as well."

"Term hasn't even started and they're already causing trouble," I said with a smile.

Angelina shrugged. "What do you expect?"

"Nothing less, I suppose." I glanced at the small badge pinned on to her robes. "Oh! You made captain!"

Angelina grinned. "Yeah, I must have forgotten to mention it. I was surprised—I thought it might be Alicia."

"Everyone knows you're perfect for it," I replied. "Alicia's great, but you're the only one who's ever really been able to tell Fred and George off properly."

"Well, she _is_ the 'most feared prefect between the four houses,'" said Angelina with a laugh.

"Not if you give her puppy dog eyes," I replied. Fred, George, and Lee suddenly appeared at the compartment door. "I see they've returned from their 'opportunity'."

"Oh good, I've got a question about that last essay question," greeted Lee, sitting down beside me and digging through his bag.

"Why, hello, Lee, it's nice to see you, too. My holiday was lovely, thanks for asking," I replied dryly.

"Where have you been?" asked Angelina, arching an eyebrow as though she already suspected them of wrongdoing.

"Conducting business," said Fred vaguely.

"Wonderful," I sighed. "Classes haven't started and you're already causing trouble."

"She missed us, I can tell," declared George with a grin.

"I don't know if 'miss' is the word I would use," I replied. "By the way, thanks for your last owl."

"How did the ink work out?" asked Fred.

"Just be thankful it came out of the carpet," I said. "Otherwise my mum would have had your guts for garters. What are all these things for, anyway?"

"A business venture," replied George as Lee shoved his parchment at me.

"Not the joke shop?" asked Angelina.

"Perhaps," said George with a glint in his eye.

"Products are still in development," said Fred. "But yes, it is something of that nature."

"Merlin, help us all," I muttered, glancing over Lee's parchment. "Lee, this looks fine."

"Are you certain?" asked Lee, taking the paper from my hands and reading it over scrupulously.

"Since when are you so concerned about your homework?" asked Angelina.

"Since my mum grounded me for a month on account of my History of Magic and Potions marks," replied Lee. "Now, Sophie, read it again, just to make sure."

"Where's Viv?" asked Fred as I read through Lee's homework once more.

"Guess," said Angelina.

"With Dan?" asked Lee. "Blimey. Didn't they spend a few weeks together in Spain?"

"Yes," replied Angelina. "But they haven't seen each other in two weeks so…"

"But she didn't see any of _us_ the entire summer," I added, somewhat irritably.

"Oh, cheer up, Sophie," urged Fred.

"You know they'll die if they don't snog at least forty times a day," said George.

I laughed in spite of myself. "I know…I expect she'll be back to normal once term begins."

"Or once their lips fall off," remarked Lee.

"We can only hope," replied Angelina.

"Speaking of absences, where were the two of you this summer?" I asked.

"Oh, you know how it is," sighed Fred. "Family engagements…"

"House cleaning," added George.

"Irritable parents…"

"Family holidays…"

"Homework…"

"I have a hard time believing that last one," stated Angelina, raising an eyebrow.

"Had to get done, didn't it?" said Fred with a grin. His gaze fell on _Winning Quidditch Strategies_. "Where'd you get that rubbish?"

"Wood sent it to me," sighed Angelina, "along with _this_ novel." She pulled out a very thick stack of parchment from her bag.

"What's this?" asked Fred.

"Three years worth of Wood's notes and strategies," she said, withdrawing another stack of parchment from her bag, "along with some advice and suggestions regarding my captaincy."

"Bloody hell," said Fred, paging through one of the stacks. "I'd forgotten how mad he was."

"There's an entire section on Weasley Management," Angelina informed him.

"Now, this I've got to see," said George, grabbing the parchment from Angelina.

The rest of the train ride was spent talking about the summer holidays, as well as a few demonstrations of Fred and George's perfected joke products. I let Chester out of his basket after a while and he settled himself on my lap, occasionally meowing in order to demonstrate his disapproval of being in a moving vehicle. Brenna knocked on the compartment door shortly before the lunch trolley came 'round.

"Is everything all right?" I asked as she slid the door open..

"I haven't got money for the trolley," she said quietly, looking rather shy.

"That's because I've got it," I replied, reaching in my bag for my moneybag. "Mum was afraid you'd lose it."

"I would not!" she exclaimed indignantly.

"Who's this?" asked Fred as I counted out the coins in my hand.

"Oh, right. This is my sister, Brenna. She's a first year," I said.

"A first year?" said Fred, with a devious grin.

"Excellent," declared George with the same sort of expression.

I gave them both a mildly chastising look.

"Now, Sophie," scolded Fred.

"We'll be nice to her," promised George.

"That's what I'm afraid of," I replied, shaking my head. "Brenna, this is Fred and George Weasley and Lee Jordan."

Brenna's eyes lit up in recognition.

"You were the ones who sent the ink," she declared.

"Yes," I said, passing the coins over to Brenna. "You'll do well to accept no gifts from them."

Fred, George, and Lee protested loudly at this.

"Go on or you'll miss the trolley," I said. She smiled slightly and headed off down the corridor.

"You act as though we're a bad influence," said George.

"Then what are you?" asked Angelina.

"Hope for the world's youth," said Fred, his eyes widened in an attempt to look innocent.

Needless to say, the conversation deteriorated after that.

Alicia finally joined us, looking slightly more frazzled than normal. Apparently some third years had set off a series of Dungbombs in a compartment full of first years and she had spent a good ten minutes chasing after them. She helped herself to a few of Angelina's Chocolate Frogs and soon fell asleep on Lee's shoulder.

We were all quite ready to leave the train behind us when we finally arrived at Hogsmeade Station (although we were slightly detained by Chester, who did not want to return to his traveling basket). I caught a brief glimpse of Brenna and her newfound friends heading over toward Professor Grubbly-Plank (a substitute Care of Magical Creatures teacher) who was ushering first years into the small wooden boats. I briefly wondered where Hagrid was, but was quickly distracted by a small problem.

Traditionally, Angelina, Alicia, Viv, and I would take one of the horseless carriages back to the castle while the boys took a separate coach. However, Dan Crawford's arm was wrapped quite snugly around Viv's waist and she boarded one of the coaches with Dan and some other Ravenclaws without a backward glance. Alicia, Angelina, and I exchanged a look with each other. We weren't quite angry, but we certainly weren't thrilled.

"Oi!" Fred called from inside a coach, breaking our silence. "If you wait much longer, you'll be walking up to the grounds!"

"Oh shut up," replied Angelina as the three of us clambered into the coach. It was a rather tight fit, as the coaches weren't meant to hold six people, their bags, and a protesting cat. However, by making Fred sit on the floor, we were all able to fit in fairly comfortably.

The procession into the school contained the usual amount of bedlam with people shouting greetings and loudly inquiring about summer holidays. The same third years who had set off the Dungbombs earlier gave Alicia quite a lot to do, as she had not managed to confiscate their entire supply. She finally grabbed them both by the collar and marched them off to their respective heads of house.

The Sorting finally commenced. The Hat's song was rather strange this year, as it seemed to call upon the school to band together in order to combat evil. With things the way they were, I wasn't entirely surprised, but it was such a break from tradition that I found it rather odd all the same. Brenna was Sorted into Gryffindor, along with her friend Kathleen Craven. Brenna beamed at me from the other end of the table and I smiled back.

Once everyone had eaten their fill, Dumbledore waved his hand and the food disappeared from the plates. He stood and began his traditional speech—welcoming new and old students, addressing out of bounds areas and banned materials. We had two new staff members this year—Professor Grubbly-Plank, who would be teaching Care of Magical Creatures, and a slightly unpleasant looking woman called Professor Umbridge, who would be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. Alicia and I exchanged looks. Clearly this was going to be another Lockhart year.

As if she had heard our thoughts and was quite determined to prove that point, Professor Umbridge interrupted Dumbledore and proceeded to make a very long-winded speech. It was difficult to follow and after a few minutes I gave up entirely. Fred and George were playing Hangman on a spare piece of parchment. Lee was checking over his History of Magic homework once again and Angelina had dozed off. Alicia was practicing her nonverbal spells and Transfiguring her fork into various vegetables. Viv had managed a look of forced interest, but her eyes had gone slightly glassy.

Fred caught my eye and slid a folded piece of parchment across the table. I unfolded it in my lap.

"What do you reckon?" it read in Fred's scrawled print. I retrieved a quill from my bag and surreptitiously wrote a reply.

"I haven't had a class with her and I'm already bored."

I slid the parchment back over the table. Fred unfolded, grinned, and passed it over to George, who read it, looked at me and nodded in agreement.

Umbridge finally ended her speech with quite a lot of alliteration. I clapped reluctantly, as I didn't want to encourage her. Dumbledore continued on with the announcements. He looked completely unperturbed at Umbridge's speech and hadn't even tried to stop her from making the speech in the first place—but then again, Dumbledore is particularly well-known for his tact. I hoped he found her as distasteful as the rest of the student body did.

We were finally dismissed. Alicia parted from us to help direct the first years. I noticed that Brenna and her friend Kathleen stayed particularly close to Alicia.

"I suppose there's not much hope that Defense Against the Dark Arts will be interesting this year," sighed Angelina.

"Not likely," I replied.

"If only the Snackboxes were perfected," said Fred wistfully.

"The what?" asked Angelina.

"You'll see," said Fred with his customary mischievous smile that was both amusing and vaguely frightening.

It was good to be back in Gryffindor Tower, despite the looming threat of schoolwork the next day. Angelina, Alicia, Viv, and I went up to our room to unpack our trunks. It was just as we left it, aside from the fact that the plaque on the door now read "Seventh Years". I went to check on Brenna, who was getting on quite well with the other girls in her room, apparently having shed her nervousness. Angelina and Alicia finished unpacking first and went down to the common room while Viv and I continued to unpack.

"How have you been?" I asked as I sorted through my books. "I haven't spoken with you much this summer."

"Really well," said Viv. "I really had a nice time in France this year—my cousins weren't quite as intolerable and it seems that Francoise has finally grown up."

"How was Spain?"

"Oh, Sophie, it was so lovely," she gushed. "The Crawfords are such lovely people and I really enjoyed spending time with Dan. Mr. Crawford works for the Ministry, you know, so we got special passes for a Quidditch match and we got to go behind the scenes at some of the museums."

I paused for a moment. That explained a lot…why Viv was so reluctant to discuss You-Know-Who, the Ministry, or the _Prophet_ in our letters.

"Something wrong?" asked Viv.

"No, I just realized…you know, why you never said anything about the Ministry or You-Know-Who in your letters," I said. "Because of the Crawfords."

Viv frowned. "No…I didn't say anything because…well, because I don't believe any of it."

My stomach dropped slightly. Surely she was joking.

"What?"

"I don't believe it," she repeated, neatly folding a sweater. "It's all rubbish—You-Know-Who is dead."

"What about Dumbledore?" I asked. "Surely you believe him."

"Dumbledore is a very kind man, Sophie," said Viv, "but I'm beginning to think that he's not up for the job. He's getting rather old—the fact that he believes what Harry Potter says is an indication that his wits aren't what they used to be."

"You can't be serious," I stammered, feeling shocked. "Dumbledore is cleverer than the entire Ministry combined, everyone knows that."

"He _was_ cleverer than the entire Ministry," corrected Viv matter-of-factly. "His age is starting to addle his mind."

"If you believe the rubbish the _Prophet_ publishes."

Viv's eyes flashed dangerously. "I'm not stupid, Sophie."

"I'm not saying you are," I replied as gently as I could. "It's just that…well, you've been fed an awful lot of Ministry propaganda over the summer."

Viv pursed her lips. "Mr. Crawford is a greatly respected member of the Ministry."

"That doesn't mean he can't be wrong," I said. "What I don't understand is why you suddenly hold Mr. Crawford in higher regard than Dumbledore."

"Mr. Crawford is a brilliant man," she said curtly. "Frankly, he's shown quite a lot more sanity than Dumbledore has in recent months."

"Aren't you a little biased, Viv?" I asked. "After all, you're dating his son…"

"What's that supposed to mean?" she said, her voice going slightly cold.

"Well, you never doubted Dumbledore before you started dating Dan," I replied.

"Dumbledore didn't give me a _reason_ to doubt him before this."

"Fourth year when the school governors suspended him, you were livid," I retorted. "He didn't have much more proof then than he does now."

"That was quite different," snapped Viv. "Then he wasn't claiming that a man had come back from the dead."

"You've heard the rumors, Viv," I replied, my hands shaking.

"Rumors aren't _facts_, Sophie."

"And whatever the Ministry says is a fact?" I asked. "Come off it, Viv. Just because you're dating Dan doesn't mean you have to blindly support the Ministry."

"I still have the capability of rational thought," she spat. "_That's_ why I support the Ministry."

"_Right_," I said sharply, feeling myself beginning to lose my temper. "Dan has absolutely nothing to do with this. You've just changed your opinions to match his on a whim. It all makes _perfect_ sense."

"Oh, don't try and bring _your_ insecurities into this, Sophie!"

I frowned. "What?"

"If you're jealous—"

"Jealous? Oh of course!" I interrupted. "I want to treat my friends poorly and lose my capability of independent thought!"

"_Excuse_ me?" shouted Viv, her cheeks flushing in anger.

"I may not have a boyfriend, Vivian, but at least I don't need one to tell me how to _think_!" I spat.

"Well at least _I_ don't have to make things up so I have something to be afraid of!" Her face was white with fury.

"What?"

"You're a coward, Sophie," she spat cruelly. "The only reason you believe this rubbish is so you have something to be afraid of. Then you go looking for someone else to protect you. That's the only thing you're good at."

I tried to swallow the lump in my throat. "Well, I certainly hope that Dan will be able to tell you what to do when You-Know-Who comes back."

I turned to walk away.

"Right, Sophie, walk away from a fight, just like a _true_ Gryffindor," said Viv sarcastically.

I slammed the door behind me. I wanted to say something cruel back to her, but it was all I could do to not cry. And above all, I didn't want Vivian to see me crying. I didn't want her to know that she'd hurt me. Most of all, I wanted to convince myself that the things she said weren't true and that if they weren't true, they couldn't hurt me.

I walked down the stairs on shaky legs. The common room was fairly empty. Alicia and Angelina were laughing about something. I walked quickly past them and headed out the portrait hole.

Once I was in the relative safety of the corridors, the dam burst and tears began pouring down my cheeks. I could barely see in front of me as I walked quickly and purposelessly through the corridor, my arms folded tightly across my chest. Vivian and I had argued before, but never like this. This was something entirely different.

As I turned the corner, I heard voices I recognized. It was Fred, George, and Lee, no doubt returning from the kitchens, despite the fact that we had an enormous meal no less than an hour ago. I quickly wiped the tears from my face as best I could, bowed my head and walked faster. Perhaps they wouldn't recognize me. Perhaps I could go on my way and get everything out of my system before I had to speak with anyone. Perhaps—

"Sophie?"

Perhaps not.

I pretended as though I hadn't heard and continued walking, determined to get as far away as possible. I hadn't gone more than a few meters when a hand gripped my shoulder and turned me around. It was George. I tried my best to look happy and not upset, but his smile died rather quickly and was replaced by a frown of concern.

"Go on, I'll meet up with you later," he said, passing what looked like a basket of fruit to Lee and giving Fred an indecipherable look. Surprisingly, Fred and Lee agreed and continued on their way without any discussion.

"What's wrong?" he asked as Fred and Lee's footsteps faded.

"Nothing," I replied automatically.

"You've been crying," stated George, raising an eyebrow.

"It's nothing, it's stupid," I said, my voice catching slightly.

"If it's upsetting you, it can't very well be stupid," he said.

"I'll be fine tomorrow," I insisted. I turned to walk away, but he grabbed my shoulder again.

"Sophie." He looked genuinely concerned. It was a seriousness that I rarely got to see on either Fred or George. It wasn't because they were insensitive—it was just that they were happy most of the time.

"George, really…"

"Come on, out with it," he coaxed.

I paused for a moment before my resolve crumbled and I began to quietly recount what had happened. I told him everything. It all came out in a flood of words and run on sentences and I found myself unable to stop until I reached the end.

"I told you…it's foolish…" I trailed off.

"Don't be stupid," he replied sternly. "Remember my brother Percy? Head Boy? Humongous git?"

"Horn-rimmed glasses?" I asked with a faint smile.

"Exactly," he said with a grin. "He did the same thing this summer. Mum and Dad are still upset. We all are, to tell you the truth. 'Course I think we're better off without the stupid prat…"

I smiled slightly. "I just…I just never thought it would be Vivian."

"None of us did, love," he said, patting me on the back. "You'll make up by the end of the week and then you'll be thick as thieves again."

"I'm not sure about that," I said rather sadly. "We've never had a row as bad as this."

"It will be all right," he assured me. "Even if she doesn't change her mind, something will happen and everyone who thinks like her will feel right stupid." He said this rather grimly.

"Cheerful thought, George," I said with a small smile.

He shrugged. "It was the best I could come up with."

I smiled and paused for a moment. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," he replied, giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"Ah, Mr. Weasley, Miss Fletcher," said a kind voice, startling us both. Professor Dumbledore was making his way down the corridor, wearing a red dressing gown with gold stars. "Lovely evening for a stroll, but shouldn't you be in your dormitories?"

"It's my fault, Professor," I said before George could open his mouth. "I…er—I had a row with a friend and George came to see that I was all right."

"Ah, how fortunate it is to have such good friends," said Dumbledore with a warm smile. "But I must insist that you return to your common rooms. Mr. Filch has had a very long summer without issuing any detention and he is very eager to rise to the occasion."

"Yes, sir," I replied.

"Goodnight, Professor," bade George. I made to head back to the common room with George, but I paused and turned back to Professor Dumbledore.

"Er…sorry, sir, but I…I was wondering if I could ask a question," I said quietly so George wouldn't hear. Dumbledore nodded for me to continue. "I was…just wondering if…perhaps the Sorting Hat was wrong about placing me in Gryffindor."

To my surprise, Dumbledore smiled.

"You are certainly not the first student to question the Sorting Hat's judgment," he said. "I certainly have in the past, but you may rest assured that the Sorting Hat's wisdom is never questioned in the end." His clear blue gaze suddenly became much more serious. "Bravery, Miss Fletcher, is one of the more difficult qualities to assess because it can be found in so many different forms. However, the most important part about bravery is not what others think you are or even what you've done, but what lies in your heart."

It was the usual sort of cryptic pieces of wisdom that Dumbledore was fond of distributing. And although I was still uncertain and hurting from Viv's comments, I felt slightly better.

"Thank you, sir," I said. Dumbledore smiled and nodded slightly.

"Good night, Miss Fletcher."

I rejoined George, who was waiting at the end of the corridor. He didn't ask any questions and for that I was grateful. We made our way back to Gryffindor Tower without any further incidents.

* * *

I wish I could say that Viv and I made up the next morning, but that would be wistful thinking. She had left by the time I woke up. Then again, both Alicia and I had overslept and missed breakfast. We got to Herbology just in time. As Viv and I didn't have that class together, there wasn't much tension. 

Charms, however, was quite a different matter.

Viv and I had always sat together and always partnered up in Charms class. We had done so since first year and I suppose a part of me was still expecting that we would despite our row the night before. However, when we entered the classroom, Dan Crawford took my usual seat next to Viv. I tried to not let my shock show and sat down in an empty desk next to Alicia, who, as always, was sitting with Angelina. Alicia gave me a questioning look, but I waved her away, mouthing that I'd speak with her later. I was feeling quite miserable when George sat down in the desk next to me. He grinned at me and began to take out some parchment and a quill as Professor Flitwick called the class to attention. I dipped my quill in the inkwell and hastily scrawled 'Thanks' on the edge of his parchment when Flitwick's back was turned. 'Not at all,' he wrote on the edge of my notes when the opportunity presented itself again.

We had lunch next and George was kind enough to spare me the humiliation of not having a partner that afternoon in Defense Against the Dark Arts. However, my happiness was neatly squelched when Professor Umbridge entered the room.

My initial misgivings were proven to be well-founded when she insisted that we reply to her queries in a sing-song sort of chant that was appropriate for small children. She then began to go about explaining the course aims. I was slightly concerned as I read through them. There was ample mention of theory, but absolutely no mention of a practical part of the class.

I was not the only one to notice this, judging from the frowns on the faces of my fellow students. Finally, Henry Grogan, an outspoken Hufflepuff, stuck his hand in the air.

When Professor Umbridge finally looked at Henry, her expression seemed to indicate that she regarded Henry as an unpleasant sort of bug that she really hoped would crawl away before she had to deal with it. She pursed her lips and finished her sentence before calling on Henry.

"Yes, dear?" she asked with a simpering sort of smile.

"Excuse me, but am I to understand that there will be no practical part of this class?" asked Henry.

"Well, Mister—?" she began.

"Grogan. Henry Grogan," he replied.

"Mr. Grogan, the Ministry of Magic has approved a course of study where you will learn about defensive spells without exposing yourselves to harm or risky situations, as some of your former teachers have done. With a proper study of defensive theory, a practical part of this class is wholly unnecessary. Now…"

Something boiled in the pit of my stomach and before I knew what was happening, I stuck my hand in the air.

"Yes, Miss—?" she asked, a hint of irritation tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"Fletcher. Sophie Fletcher," I replied.

"Do you have a question, Miss Fletcher?"

I cleared my throat. "Forgive me, Professor, but it seems slightly untruthful to suggest that you can do anything merely by studying theory. You can read all about playing the piano—technique, music theory, everything—but that doesn't mean you'll be able to sit down at a piano and play a Beethoven sonata without any prior practice."

The room fell deathly silent and Umbridge's smile faltered a little.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for your cheek, Miss Fletcher," she said coolly. "And I'll thank you to not think yourself cleverer than trained education experts. Now—"

But the damage had been done. Hands were shooting up in the air and people began arguing with Umbridge about our theory-based course.

"What was that?" mouthed Alicia as Professor Umbridge tried to field more questions. I shrugged, my cheeks burning slightly. George nudged me with his elbow, regarding me with an expression of awe and amusement.

"_Brilliant_," he whispered in my ear. My stomach lurched slightly with the full knowledge of what I'd done. If George Weasley was condoning my behavior, there was a chance that it wasn't the wisest course of action to take.

But as I looked at Viv and Dan, who were both silent while other students shouted out questions, I realized that I didn't really care.

* * *

"What a cow," declared Fred once we were out of earshot of her classroom. The barrage of questions had ended with many point deductions from all four houses and a detention for Henry Grogan, whose only crime was obnoxious curiosity.

"How are we supposed to learn anything for N.E.W.T.s?" asked Alicia. "Doesn't she realize that there's a practical part on the exam?"

"I'd love to say more terrible things about her, but I've got to speak with Trelawney about borrowing a textbook. I'll see you later," said Angelina before bolting up the stairs.

"And _you_!" declared Fred, suddenly turning to me.

"What?" I asked, putting my hands up defensively.

"All these years I've never heard you smart off to a teacher," said Fred, with an impressed sort of look. "I didn't know you had it in you."

I shrugged. "Hidden talent."

"You made her look like a fool," said Alicia delightedly. Her face suddenly changed as Viv and Dan walked past with a few Ravenclaws. "What happened?"

"Later," I promised.

"All right," sighed Alicia. "I've got to get to Divination anyway. I'll see you later. Come on, Lee, we'll be late."

She grabbed hold of the collar of Lee's robes and dragged him along with her.

"How are you?" asked Fred, once Alicia was out of earshot. George had mentioned to Fred that Viv had "pulled a Percy" on me, which seemed to stir some sympathy in Fred.

"I've been worse," I shrugged. "I can't say I expected anything different from her this morning."

"She'll come 'round," he assured me.

I sighed. "I hope so."

As we made our way back to the common room for break, something occurred to me.

"What's wrong?" asked George, taking notice of the slightly confused expression on my face.

"Lee doesn't take Divination."


	7. A Dangerous Suggestion

**Disclaimer: **If I really owned _Harry Potter_, don't you think I'd be busy doing the whole _Deathly Hallows _media circuit?

**Author's Note**: As usual, you all are awesome. Thanks for the reviews! I'm not entirely sure what I think of this chapter, so please give me some feedback!

_Chapter 7: A Dangerous Suggestion_

"Why d'you think he went with her?" asked George once the three of us were seated back in the common room, our work completely abandoned on the table in front of us.

"Maybe he's thinking about picking up Divination again," I suggested, although I thought it was slightly unlikely.

"Couldn't be," said Fred, shaking his head.

"Lee hated Divination," George agreed. "He couldn't wait to drop it."

"Could he have changed his mind?" I asked.

"Not after he burned his copy of _Unfogging the Future_," said George. "Nearly set the dormitory on fire."

"And especially not after Trelawney overheard him calling her a bug-eyed nutter," added Fred.

"Maybe Alicia just wanted a word with him."

"Then why didn't she say so?" asked Fred, raising an eyebrow.

"Maybe she didn't want you lot listening in," I suggested wryly.

George grinned. "Well, you can't very well expect us to spend ages developing the Extendible Ears and then _not_ use them."

I arched an eyebrow at him. "Yes, but you can't blame people for wanting a little privacy."

"The question is: what do they want to keep private?" asked Fred with a devious smile.

"It doesn't matter _what_ it is if they want to keep it _private_," I replied. "If she hasn't told me and Lee hasn't told either of you, then there's a good chance that they don't want any of us to know."

"But for Alicia to make up an excuse to speak with Lee…" began Fred.

"An excuse that we could easily see through…" added George.

"Then she _must_ be rather desperate, and therefore, the information is all the more interesting," concluded Fred.

"Honestly, you two have no respect for other people's privacy," I said shaking my head. "How would you like it if I tried to stick my nose into your private affairs?"

"Ah, Sophie, so naïve," sighed Fred.

"We are impermeable fortresses when it concerns our secrets," stated George.

"Although," said Fred, lowering his voice slightly, "if some Galleons exchanged hands, I would be willing to give you the goods on George…"

George elbowed him in the ribs. "Bloody traitor."

"I was looking out for both of us!" protested Fred.

"How's that?" asked George skeptically.

"It was a business venture," stated Fred. "Besides, I never said it would be _accurate_ information…"

"No matter," I shrugged. "I'm not interested in George's secrets."

Fred raised his eyebrows. "Sophie, I could tell you things that would make your hair curl…"

"That's exactly what I'm afraid of," I replied. "I imagine if I did look through your dirty laundry, I'd get more than I bargained for."

George grinned. "She's a clever one."

"Takes half the fun out of it if you're already expecting it," said Fred disappointedly.

"Oh believe you me, you will never lose the element of surprise with me," I assured him.

"Excellent," said Fred with a wicked grin.

"I immediately regret telling you that."

"Where _is_ he?" asked George, looking slightly perplexed.

"Maybe he's sitting in on a class," I offered.

"Sophie, for the last time, Lee hates Divination," said Fred.

"He'll take it up as soon as Snape gives his hair a proper wash," said George.

"Well, I'm certain that they would have told us if they _wanted_ us to know," I stated.

"All the more reason to find out," said George with a grin.

"You don't think…" Fred trailed off and exchanged a confused sort of look with George.

"No, definitely not," said George, shaking his head. "They wouldn't."

"Wouldn't what?" I asked.

"You know…" said Fred cryptically. George looked at me and wiggled his eyebrows slightly.

"You mean…" I paused. "They couldn't be _seeing_ each other?"

"You're right. They couldn't be," said Fred promptly.

"Not at all," agreed George.

I thought about it for a moment.

"Well, I suppose I wouldn't be surprised," I said finally.

"What?" asked Fred, looking confused.

"Well, they went to the Yule Ball together and sometimes it seemed like they were becoming rather close…" I mused. Fred and George exchanged an indecipherable look.

"That doesn't necessarily mean anything," said Fred.

"There was a lot of pressure," added George. "Some blokes asked any old girl so long as they weren't dateless."

I raised an eyebrow. "Thanks, George."

"Oh, come off it, you know what I meant."

"I know," I said with a smile. "I just couldn't resist."

"First you mouth off to Umbridge, now this," said Fred, looking slightly impressed.

"You're turning into a rebel, Sophie," added George with a grin.

"Right," I said, glancing at the clock. "Oh bugger. I should start on Snape's essay or I'll hate myself later."

I spent the rest of break working on my essay while Fred and George spent most of their time discussing "business" and speculating on where Lee was and what he was doing.

However, when Alicia returned to the common room with Angelina (and minus Lee, who was "in the library", which seemed unlikely) she effectively managed to distract us from inquiring about Lee's sudden interest in Divination.

"All right, I want to hear everything," she stated, plunking down in the chair next to me.

"'Everything'?" I asked, looking up from my essay, which was not going very well.

"You and Viv," clarified Angelina, taking an empty seat next to George.

"You didn't sit together in class," said Alicia gravely.

"We don't always have to sit together," I replied with a shrug.

"That and you haven't exchanged a word all day," added Angelina. "Normally we can't get the pair of you to shut up."

"So what happened?" asked Alicia earnestly.

I looked at all of them and suddenly felt rather nervous. I focused on my hands.

"We had a row last night," I said quietly, "while you were both in the common room. We, er, had a difference of opinion on how the Ministry's been handling things as of late and we…we both said some things we shouldn't have."

I didn't want to elaborate on what was said. So far, George was the only one who knew exactly what had transpired and I didn't want to relive it for anyone else at the moment.

"I'm sorry, Sophie," said Alicia, patting my arm gently.

"I don't want any of you to get involved, though," I added quickly. "This is between Vivian and me; I don't want you to feel like you've got to pick sides. In fact, I'd rather you didn't pick sides at all."

Fred opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but George nudged him and he was silent.

"Maybe you both need some time away from each other," suggested Angelina.

I shrugged and tried to smile. "Yeah…maybe."

"So Alicia," said Fred in a very kind move to change the subject, "I've got a question about Div—"

"Oh, damn, I completely forgot!" exclaimed Alicia, looking at the clock. "I've got an appointment with McGonagall! I'm supposed to be there right now!"

And before Fred could say anything further, she dashed from the common room and out the portrait hole.

* * *

The situation with Vivian did not improve as the week progressed. We both continued to ignore each other and it didn't look like that would change any time soon. I tried to avoid being in the same room with her as much as possible and started taking my homework outside whenever she happened to be in the common room. I didn't feel like I was exiling myself—it was actually quite peaceful. The weather was getting slightly cooler, so the grounds were fairly empty, save for a few like-minded students. The only problem was that I was not always easily accessible to the people I _was_ speaking with. 

"_There_ you are," declared George, striding across the grass. I glanced up from my History of Magic textbook and smiled. "We've been looking all over for you," he said, sitting down on the grass beside me. "Viv left a while ago, so it's safe for you to come back."

"I thought I told Alicia I was leaving."

"She didn't know where you'd gone," said George. "Her head's in the clouds these days. Angelina said that if she doesn't keep her head during Quidditch, she'll replace her."

"Is Angelina still in a temper?"

"Yes," George sighed. "I thought it would be a bit of a lark having her as captain, but she's getting more and more like Wood. Though I suppose Harry having detention doesn't make things easier for her."

"I can't believe he shouted at Umbridge."

"From what I heard, she deserved it."

"I wish I had the nerve," I said somewhat wistfully. George grinned.

"My influence is finally paying off."

I laughed. "You wish."

We were both silent for a moment.

"It's nice out here," he said.

"Yeah…it's rather calming," I agreed. A group of six years gathered near the lake suddenly let out a stream of high-pitched giggles. "Well, it's quieter than the common room at any rate." George chuckled. "You know, you don't have to wait out here for me…I was going to come up as soon as the bell rang for lunch."

"No, it's fine," said George and for a moment I felt slightly flattered that he was going to such an extent to keep me company. "Hermione's in the common room, so we can't do much testing anyway."

Oh. So he wasn't out here for me, strictly speaking…but it was still a nice gesture.

"Speaking of which," I said, covering the slight twinge of disappointment, "what's this I hear about you testing Fainting Fancies on my little sister?"

"We paid her," replied George promptly.

"That's what I heard. You're something of a legend among the first years, you know."

"Really?" said George, looking slightly self-satisfied.

"Yes, although I can't imagine why. But if I find out that any of your products are dangerous…"

"Oh, they're not dangerous," George assured me. I regarded him skeptically. "Here…" he began rooting in his pocket and withdrew a small wrapped sweet. "Try one for yourself."

I raised an eyebrow. "The last time I heard that—"

"An isolated incident and a terrible misfortune," replied George promptly. "Go on, it's perfectly safe—Fred and I tested them on ourselves first."

Although common sense was advising me to do otherwise, I hesitantly took the sweet from his outstretched hand. I pulled off the wrapper and held it in my hand for a moment.

"If I die, I will come back as a ghost and haunt you for the rest of your life," I warned him gravely.

"Fair enough, but you won't die," said George.

"You'd better hope not. Cheers," I said grimly, taking a bite out of one end of the sweet. I chewed for a moment and briefly wondered if it really worked when everything abruptly went black. The next thing I knew, someone was patting my cheek very gently and a sweet tasting tablet was dissolving on my tongue. My eyes fluttered open.

"See? You didn't die," said George cheerfully. For a moment I was slightly confused as to what he was talking about. My mind cleared slightly and everything made sense.

"Close enough," I mumbled as I sat up. My head spun slightly.

"How do you feel?"

"All right," I replied. "You're actually going to _sell_ these things?"

"Yes," said George. "Imagine being able to get out of class whenever you fancied!"

"You can do that already, you know," I informed him. "Just say you've got 'feminine problems' and most teachers will let you out."

"Yes, I imagine most teachers would let me out of class if I said I had feminine problems," laughed George.

I grinned. "Fair point. So you're really going to do it, then?"

"Do what?"

"Start the shop."

"'Course we are. We haven't got the premises yet, but there's a nice little shop in Diagon Alley that we're thinking about buying."

"That's amazing." I looked up at the sky. "It's strange to think this is our last year here. After this it's the real world."

"D'you know what you want to do yet?"

I shrugged. "No, not really. I've thought about being a Healer—it runs in the family, I guess—but I can't really see myself doing that."

"Come work for us," said George with a grin. I laughed.

"I'll consider it if I haven't got any other options…and that _includes_ selling stolen goods off the back of a broom."

"It'd be a laugh, admit it."

"A laugh and several trips to St. Mungo's, I imagine," I replied. The bell rang in the distance.

"That'll be lunch," said George, glancing at his watch. I slipped my textbook back into my bag and tried to stand up. My knees wobbled and my head spun rather unpleasantly.

"George…did you forget to mention something?" I asked as I tried to maintain my balance.

George regarded me carefully. "Oh, that one must have been from the bad batch…"

"The _bad_ batch?!"

"Just a minor problem with ingredients, nothing to worry about," said George in what he must have thought was a reassuring manner. "It goes away after a while."

"You are utterly impossible," I stated, trying to take a step forward and stumbling slightly.

"Ah, but you love me," said George with a cheeky grin. "Come on, I'll help you up to the castle."

I suppose I looked like quite a fool stumbling about and hanging onto George's arm as though my life depended on it, but we both managed to make our way safely into the castle.

* * *

Viv and I continued to not speak to each other and classes continued on in their usual fashion. Although I was on good terms with everyone else, there was one obstacle that I had not taken into account.

Quidditch.

Usually, Viv and I (and occasionally Lee) would spend time together while the others were at practice. However, this was clearly no longer an option and I found myself mostly alone while the others were at practice. Lee would occasionally join me, but a lot of the time I was by myself. It wasn't half bad, given the way things had been going recently—Angelina was often in a temper or on the verge of being in a temper and Alicia's head was frequently off in the clouds, so spending time with them had become rather difficult. Only Fred and George remained unchanged, which was rather refreshing.

My workload was becoming immense as term progressed, so I suppose that it was good that I had a few hours free from distraction while everyone else was at Quidditch. George was now my partner and seatmate in most of my classes, which was a cheering experience. I'm not sure how he managed it, but even Snape was less threatening when George was beside me making jokes.

Although Fred and George encouraged me to do otherwise, I kept my thoughts to myself in Umbridge's class. Class itself required little more than reading a Ministry-approved textbook in silence while Professor Umbridge observed us with a sharp eye. The furor that had occurred the first day in class seemed to have been a one-time occurrence (save for occasional chaos caused by Fred and George). Everyone had heard about Harry Potter's series of detentions and none of us wanted to spend more time with Umbridge than we had to. However, as much as we hated her, Umbridge's influence at Hogwarts continued to grow at an alarming rate.

"Oh…bloody hell," declared Angelina at breakfast one morning.

"What? Has Harry got another detention?" asked Fred. Angelina wordlessly handed the paper to him.

"'Ministry seeks education reform. Dolores Umbridge appointed first-ever "High Inquisitor,"'" he read aloud from the headline.

"You're not serious!" exclaimed Alicia, snatching the paper away from him and skimming the article.

"Bloody hell," I said, echoing Angelina's earlier sentiment.

"Well, I can be packed in about ten minutes," said George. "We've all got brooms—Sophie, you'll have to share with one of us so you don't end up in another tree. We can be out of here by lunch."

"Don't tempt me," I groaned, pushing my porridge away.

"It says here that she'll be examining teachers," said Alicia.

"Oh _no_," moaned Lee. "I can't stand one class with her as it is!"

"I hope she sits in on our Transfiguration class," said Fred. "Maybe someone will misfire and turn her into something horrid."

"Would we be able to tell the difference?" asked George.

"Probably not," replied Fred with a shrug.

I had been looking forward to an Umbridge-free morning, but unfortunately, she showed up for our Charms class, which was unfortunate because I normally enjoy Charms. She sat in the back with a clipboard taking notes while Flitwick squeaked his way through our morning lesson. George nudged me and surreptitiously tapped the edge of his parchment where he had written something.

"I wish we were practicing something dangerous today," he wrote. "You can't do a lot of 'accidental' damage with these charms."

"It's just as well," I wrote back. "If you land yourself in detention, Angelina will go completely mad."

As the lesson came to an end, Umbridge came around the classroom and asked a few questions.

"Miss…er—" said Umbridge as she approached Alicia, glancing at her clipboard as though it would give her the correct answer.

"Spinnet," Alicia replied curtly.

"Miss Spinnet," said Umbridge, making a note on her clipboard. "How do you find this class?"

"It's great," said Alicia. "It's probably one of my favorites."

"Why is that?" asked Umbridge.

"I really love the _hands-on­_ part of the class. I find that teachers who rely solely on textbooks are largely _ineffectual_ and _dull_. Professor Flitwick makes everything interesting," Alicia said with a completely straight face. Angelina disguised a laugh as a cough while Professor Umbridge made another note on her clipboard, apparently unaware of the hidden content in Alicia's comment.

"I wish she had asked _me_ why I liked the class," grumbled George as we left the classroom later.

"What would you have said?" I asked.

"'I like it because you're not the teacher,'" replied George promptly. I laughed.

"I'm just glad you didn't get a detention, Alicia," stated Angelina, although she was smiling as she said it.

Alicia shrugged. "She _asked_ me what I thought. I couldn't _lie_ to her…that would be wrong."

"It's almost a pity she didn't recognize herself," sighed Fred. "Maybe class would have been interesting."

"I suppose we'll have to plan some sort of diversion," said George sadly.

"It's our civic duty," agreed Fred.

Privately, I was unsure as to whether or not chaos would be sufficient enough to make Umbridge's classes more interesting. However, I was looking forward to the twins' 'diversion' all the same.

* * *

The weather grew chillier as the weeks went by. I had started to wear heavier sweaters whilst working outside and I knew that soon I would have to find a new place to do my work. I had taken to going to the library on days when the weather was bad, but I was hoping to find somewhere equally quiet away from the beady glare of Madam Pince. However, it was the best option I had at the moment. George continued to visit me, which was always pleasant, although Madam Pince did not seem to appreciate his boisterous personality.

I could usually hear George approaching, which was why I was slightly surprised the day he quietly slipped into the seat across from me without any warning beforehand.

"Hi," I said, jumping slightly. "You startled me."

"Sorry," he said quietly. I was surprised—usually he didn't bother to use anything but his normal speaking voice.

"Is the common room safe? I left my Charms essay up in my room and I had wanted to finish it today."

"Yes, but I was wondering if I might have word with you," he said.

I wondered if this request accounted for his odd behavior. "Sure. What is it?"

"Actually," he said glancing around the library at other studying students, "it's probably best we're not overheard. Go for a walk with me?"

I frowned, slightly confused. "Sure. Let me get my things together."

I slid my books and parchment into my bag and walked out of the library with George. We went out through the main entrance and a short way onto the grounds where a cold misty drizzle was falling.

"Sorry," he said as I folded my arms together for warmth, "but we can't risk her overhearing."

"Overhearing what?" I asked.

"Listen," he said so quietly that I had to step in closer to hear, "there are some students who want to form a Defense Against the Dark Arts group so we can learn the spells that Umbridge and the Ministry won't teach us. I thought you might be interested."

"Who's in charge of this?" I asked.

"It sounds like Hermione's the driving force behind the idea, but Ron said that Harry would be teaching us the spells," said George.

I chewed on my lip for a moment.

"I dunno," I said finally.

"What d'you mean you don't know?" asked George with a smile. "I thought you were a cert."

"It's just…well…I don't think I'll be on the battlefield when You-Know-Who comes back," I replied.

"Sophie, _everyone's_ on the battlefield," he said, his smile fading. "He doesn't ignore you if you don't want to fight—everyone is fair game. That's why we're doing this."

"I know…I just…" I stopped and chewed on my lip some more. "I suppose it seems like I've gotten bolder because of that row with Viv and then smarting off to Umbridge, but honestly, she frightens me. The Ministry frightens me."

"But you're against them," said George. "Surely if you're against them, you want to fight them."

I shook my head. "I'm not that brave, George."

"I don't believe that," he replied, fixing me with an intense gaze. "You may be shy, but you're not a coward."

I snorted. "That's not—"

"Viv doesn't know what she's talking about," interrupted George. "If you ask me, _she's_ the cowardly one because she's afraid of the truth."

"I don't want you taking sides," I said quietly.

"I've heard the whole story," he replied, "and I'm taking your side."

I stared back at him, not entirely sure what to say.

"We're meeting in the Hog's Head on the next Hogsmeade weekend if you change your mind," he said finally. He paused for a moment, his hand partly outstretched. "You've got some hair in your face." He shoved his hands in his pockets and made his way back to the school.

I brushed the wayward strand out of my face and turned to watch the smooth blue-grey surface of the lake as George left me alone with my thoughts.


	8. Revolution

**Disclaimer:** If I was making money off this, I would have probably bought that cute little sundress I saw at the mall over the weekend instead of saying, "_FIFTY_ dollars?! On _clearance_?! Who are you kidding?"

**Author's Note:** Once again, thank you all for your comments! You are all awesome. I'd also like to extend a special thanks to Fred, who appeared in trufflesque's review. In regards to your demands…keep your pants on, my friend. Patience is a virtue. Anyway, as always, let me know what you think!

_Chapter 8: Revolution_

Despite my best efforts, my life took a slight turn for the worse after that conversation with George. Viv and I were still not speaking, which was fairly stressful, not to mention lonely. Although I was angry with her, I couldn't help but miss her—she was my best friend, after all.

Things were further complicated by the fact that nearly everyone seemed to be changing. Angelina was becoming more and more obsessed with Quidditch and I quickly discovered that the length of her temper was inversely proportional to the degree of her obsession. That is, the more obsessed she became, the shorter her temper grew. Alicia was not much better. In addition to being quite dreamy and absentminded, she had become very secretive and took to darting out of the room to forgotten appointments whenever any one of us tried to mention Lee or Divination. Lee was equally evasive, although he seemed to pay more attention than Alicia.

I suppose I wouldn't have minded all of this quite as much if George hadn't changed as well. He wasn't outright rude, but he was slightly more distant after our conversation out on the grounds. He didn't visit me during my self-inflicted exiles from the common room and he stopped trying to write notes on the corners of my parchment during class. He didn't exactly seem angry with me, as he was still quite genial and didn't go out of his way to avoid me. If I had to pick an emotion, I would say that he seemed more disappointed than angry. I wanted to change that, of course, but I got the sense that the only way I'd be able to was by going to the Hog's Head or trying to take on a band of Death Eaters single-handedly. The latter was fairly impossible in light of my pathetic dueling skills and the fact that if Death Eaters appeared anywhere near Hogwarts, Harry Potter would be the one vanquishing them, as danger seemed to follow that poor boy everywhere. As for the Hog's Head, I still couldn't convince myself that going to that meeting was something that I was capable of doing, even in the name of friendship.

All in all, it seemed that our little group was swiftly breaking apart at the seams. Only Fred remained resolutely unchanged and unfazed through the entire ordeal.

When the Hogsmeade weekend finally arrived, I stayed buried under my blankets in the dormitory, claiming I had a headache when Angelina and Alicia asked why I hadn't gotten up. It was a thoroughly miserable day, despite the fact that I slept in late and spent the rest of day reading. But the worst part was the way George's smile didn't quite reach his eyes when I saw them all at dinner that evening,

The following Monday, Educational Decree Number Twenty-four was posted, which didn't do much for anyone's mood. The decree disbanded all student organizations and required that all such groups receive Umbridge's permission in order to reform. In essence, the decree accomplished two things. For one, it solidified everyone's dislike for Umbridge herself. It also caused Angelina to drop all pretenses and go completely mental. She was speechless for several moments as she gaped open-mouthed at the sign, but she quickly flung herself into action, grabbing her book bag and muttering angrily to herself. Her jaw was set with a grim determination as she stomped out the portrait-hole, most likely in search of McGonagall.

"Well, hopefully she won't end up in St. Mungo's before the next match," said Fred as the portrait slammed behind her.

"If there is a match," sighed Alicia mournfully. "I can't believe this. You don't think she—"

Fred shushed her immediately. However, I couldn't help but agree with Alicia's unspoken query—there seemed to be a correlation between the decree and the meeting at the Hog's Head. George seemed to think so, too, as he caught my eye and gave me a look, as though daring me to take a stand.

I looked away, muttered something about being hungry and headed downstairs to breakfast.

It was quite an eventful day in all. The news of Trelawney's probation quickly made its way through the school, resulting in more of those infuriating looks from George. Although Trelawney wasn't wildly popular and was generally regarded as a fraud, her probation seemed to spark a wave of sympathy from the students. And although I did feel sorry for the batty, bespectacled woman, I couldn't bring myself to change my mind. I felt bad about everything that was happening, but pity alone couldn't convince me that my presence at defense meetings would make a difference.

As a whole, October was a miserable month for me and I hoped that November would bring better fortune. However, the upcoming Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match seemed to indicate otherwise. Relations between Gryffindor and Slytherin became particularly strained whenever we played each other in Quidditch. Corridors were dangerous—there were taunts to endure as well as curses and hexes from the more vicious attackers. I wasn't on the Quidditch team, so I wasn't quite as much of a target—at the very worst, a Slytherin would glare at me or say something rude. The others were not quite so lucky. Miles Bletchley, the Slytherin Keeper, often expressed his dislike for Alicia in the days leading up to the match. We weren't sure if it was because she had once (accidentally) hit him with the Quaffle and broken his nose or because she had turned him down for a date in our fourth year. Either way, he seemed to have sufficient motivation to jinx her eyebrows so that they grew at quite an alarming rate. They nearly reached her shoulders before Madam Pomfrey was able to put a stop to it. The worst part was that Snape, with his usual lack of objectivity, said that Alicia must have done it herself and refused to punish Bletchley.

I was fairly relieved when the day of the match finally arrived, hoping the animosity would mellow after the match. However, I quickly found myself faced with a new set of problems. Viv and I had always sat together during matches, as we were the only ones among our friends who weren't involved in the match in some respect. Obviously, this was no longer an option. I must have looked fairly dejected, because Brenna took pity on me and invited me to sit with her and her friend Kathleen.

"You and Viv had a row," she said plainly once we sat down.

"How did you know?" I asked. I had avoided talking about the fight with Brenna because Brenna adored Viv and I didn't want to make things more complicated by bringing divided loyalties into the mix.

"I asked why you weren't speaking and she told me," she shrugged. "She wouldn't say why, but it must have been something terrible."

"You've certainly done your homework," I replied, raising an eyebrow.

"It's because of Marcy Wright," she stated. Kathleen nodded in agreement.

"Who?"

"She's a terrible gossip," explained Kathleen. "But she knows almost everything."

"She said that you and Viv were having a row," shrugged Brenna. "Naturally, I had to investigate. She also says you're dating one of the Weasley twins, but I told her that that's rubbish."

"What? Where did she get that idea?"

Brenna shrugged. "She says she sees you with one of them quite often."

"I suppose the concept of platonic friendship between the sexes is alien to eleven-year-olds," I replied, glancing up at the pitch. The teams had not yet assembled.

"Hey!" protested Brenna, swatting me on the shoulder. "It wasn't _me_—it was Marcy!"

"Sorry. But it's a bit daft, you know?"

"She's not very subtle," stated Kathleen. "She knows everything that goes on around here, but she's nearly as dense as a troll."

"That explains it."

"Oh, there's a spot!" a voice declared somewhere to my left. A few seconds later, Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger had sat down beside me.

"Hi," said Ginny, her nose pink with cold. "D'you mind if we sit here?"

"No, not at all," I replied.

"It's Laurie, right?" asked Hermione.

"No, it's Sophie," I corrected her.

"Oh, right, of course. Sorry. I'm not usually bad with names, but you remind me of my cousin, Laurie, and I got it stuck in my head."

"That's all right."

"I wonder if Ron's been sick yet," mused Ginny. The youngest male Weasley was making his Quidditch debut as Keeper. He had looked rather nervous when saw him at breakfast.

"Oh, don't say that," scolded Hermione, twisting her hands slightly in her lap. "I just hope he didn't see the badges…"

"What badges?" I asked.

"The Slytherins are wearing them," she said darkly. "Gold crowns that say 'Weasley is our King'. I don't know what it means, but I expect we'll find out."

"It's Malfoy's doing, most likely," sighed Ginny. "Besides, I think Ron looked too ill to be able to read properly and he won't be able to see them from the pitch, so it shouldn't bother him…"

Both teams marched onto the pitch and the cheering of the crowd drowned Ginny out. The players mounted their brooms and the match began. Lee, who was commentating, immediately started off with one of his usual quips about Angelina refusing to date him.

"Well, then he can't be with Alicia…" I mused to myself as Professor McGonagall told him off.

"What?" asked Ginny.

"Er—nothing," I replied, shaking my head to clear my thoughts.

"Marcy reckons that Lee Jordan and Alicia Spinnet are secretly dating," said Brenna.

I shook my head, not entirely sure what to think. I could hear singing coming from the Slytherin side, although I couldn't quite make out the words.

"What's that they're singing?"

As though they heard my query, the Slytherins kicked the volume up a notch.

_Weasley cannot save a thing,_

_He cannot block a single ring,_

_That's why Slytherins all sing:_

_Weasley is our King._

_Weasley was born in a bin—_

Ginny's cheeks flushed crimson as her gaze narrowed sharply. Hermione put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Just ignore it," she said, soothingly, although I could see her eyes were bright with anger. "It's rubbish, just ignore it."

But it was quite difficult to ignore it. I found myself listening to the singing instead of Lee's commentary as the match continued on in the air. Every time Ron missed a save, the Slytherins would cheer and the song would get louder. Hermione had clapped her hands over her face and was peeking out between the gaps of her fingers, wincing every time Ron failed to block a goal. Ginny's eyes had narrowed to slits and I briefly wondered how she was able to watch the match.

Luckily, Harry caught the Snitch fairly early in the match. The Gryffindor section erupted in cheers, which effectively drowned out the rest of "Weasley Is Our King". As a final retaliation, one of the Slytherin Beaters hit a Bludger at Harry, which effectively knocked him off his broom. Thankfully, the drop was not that far.

"Oh no!" gasped Hermione. "Do you think he's all right?"

"Honestly, Hermione," sighed Ginny. "For Harry, that's barely a scratch. Oh, that was wonderful…that will show that rotten, foul—"

Ginny was cut off as people began shouting. On the pitch below, I could see both George and Harry launching themselves at Draco Malfoy, their fists flying.

"NO!" shouted Hermione, clapping her hands to her mouth. "Oh, Harry, no…"

The fight was over almost as quickly as it began. Madam Hooch hit them both with an Impediment Jinx and after shouting at them for quite a bit, pointed fiercely in the direction of the castle. Harry and George stalked off angrily.

"I think they drew blood!" reported Ginny happily, squinting at Malfoy, who was now being helped to his feet by Madam Hooch and one of the Slytherin Beaters. Angelina, Katie, and Alicia were still restraining Fred. "Oh, I hope they broke his nose."

Hermione did not even bother to scold her.

I wanted to get back to the common room as quickly as possibly, but the pushing crowd made it difficult. I was quickly separated from Brenna and Kathleen and I only managed to stay with Ginny and Hermione because Ginny had linked arms with both Hermione and me. We somehow managed to make our way to the front of the crowd, and once we got in the castle, we dropped arms and took off at a run toward Gryffindor Tower.

Angelina, Alicia, Katie, and Fred did not make their way into the common room until well after dinner. Hermione, Ginny, Lee, and I had stuffed as much food as we could carry in our pockets and brought it up to the common room for them. Harry and George were presumably still being reprimanded. No one seemed to know where Ron had gone.

"All right?" I asked quietly as Angelina sat down next to me on the couch. It was a dangerous question. Her expression was grim and there were traces of anger on her face. She shrugged and didn't say anything as she reached over to grab a sandwich. In fact, it was largely silent for quite a while. No one even said anything when Viv came over and sat down next to Alicia.

"Why can't any of you control your temper?" Angelina finally demanded, rounding on Fred.

"He deserved it," growled Fred.

"Oh, please, stop, the two of you," sighed Alicia heavily. "We've been over this."

"It doesn't matter if he deserved it or not," replied Angelina angrily, ignoring Alicia.

"So you think what he said was all right?" demanded Fred, his temper rising.

"Don't you try to put words in my mouth, Fred Weasley," snapped Angelina. "You should have kept—"

At that moment, the portrait door opened and George and Harry walked inside, both looking quite grim.

"Your detentions better not interfere with practice, Potter," said Angelina curtly and furiously. "You can't afford to miss any more."

"It doesn't matter," said Harry dully. He opened his hand and there was a flash of gold as the Snitch started flying around the common room. "I've been banned from the team."

Angelina's mouth hung open for a moment. Everyone seemed too shocked to speak.

"What?" she finally managed.

"We've been banned," repeated George tonelessly. "Fred, too."

"_What_?" demanded Fred, leaping from his seat, accompanied by a chorus of protests from everyone assembled.

"Umbridge reckons you would have gone after Malfoy if you hadn't been held back," said George.

"I'm being punished for something I didn't do?" he asked.

"That's ridiculous!" exclaimed Alicia.

"Can she even do that?"

"She has the authority now," said Harry. "Educational Decree Number Twenty-five."

Everyone was silent for a moment.

"Banned. _Banned_. No Seeker and no Beaters…What on earth are we going to do?" asked Angelina finally, looking completely shocked.

"It's just so unfair. I mean, what about Crabbe and that Bludger he hit after the whistle had been blown. Has she banned him?" asked Alicia.

"No," sighed Ginny. "He just got lines. I heard Montague laughing about it at dinner."

"And banning Fred when he didn't even do anything!" added Alicia angrily.

"It's not my fault I didn't," growled Fred, swatting angrily at the Snitch as it zipped past his head. "I would've pummeled the little scumbag to a pulp if you hadn't held me back."

"I'm going to bed," sighed Angelina dejectedly after a moment. "Maybe this will all turn out to have been a bad dream…Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow and find we haven't played yet…"

Lee and Katie went up to bed shortly after Angelina. The rest of us sat in silence. I stared at the fire, feeling angry about everything. Angry about the match, angry at Umbridge, angry that Viv still wouldn't meet my eye.

"I'm going to bed," Viv declared after while. She patted Alicia on the shoulder. "Feel better. It will be all right." She turned to Fred and George. "I'm sorry."

They both nodded in response, looking quite angry still.

And without acknowledging me, Viv turned at went up the stairs to the dormitory. I was slightly stunned. It was bad enough that we weren't speaking, but singling me out by ignoring me…somehow that hurt worse than not speaking. I angrily blinked away the tears in my eyes and looked up at the ceiling until I was sure that none would spill over. Alicia reached over and squeezed my shoulder reassuringly.

"I think I'll go up, too," she said quietly. "Goodnight."

I stared at the fire some more, feeling angry and hurt. This wasn't right. Nothing was right. But what could I do about it? What could anyone do?

Something suddenly occurred to me and I immediately felt quite stupid. But at the same time, I understood things a little better. I looked up from the fire and caught George's eye.

"I've changed my mind."

And for the first time that evening, a ghost of a smile flickered on his face.

I went to my first meeting that week. To say I was nervous was a slight understatement.

"Sophie, if you _look_ guilty, they'll suspect you're doing something wrong," said George amusedly as we made our way through the halls. We had left earlier than the others because George had said that Harry wanted to have a word with me before the meeting began. George had also returned to his usual self around me and I could have not been more grateful for the change.

"Sorry," I muttered. "I'm not good at hiding things."

"Why do you think Fred and I are so successful?" he asked. "By putting on an innocent front, you deflect the blame from yourself."

"Yeah, but by now, _everyone_ knows that if something odd happens, you two are likely behind it."

"I don't know where you get these ideas, Sophie," sighed George. He withdrew a brightly wrapped sweet from his pocket. "Sweet?"

"No thank you," I replied with a knowing smile. He grinned.

George had tried to explain the Room of Requirement to me, but it wasn't quite the same as actually seeing the room itself. The large door opened to reveal a room of considerable size, the floor of which was littered with many silk cushions. There were many bookshelves, most of which were packed with thick volumes, although one set of shelves had Dark Detectors, Secrecy Sensors, and other such items displayed neatly. Ron and Harry were talking at the far end of the room and Hermione was sitting on one of the cushions, her head bent over a particularly large book.

"Oh…my…" I said after a moment.

George grinned. "I thought you'd like it." He hailed Harry. "Harry, this is Sophie Fletcher."

"Hi…we've met before, right?" said Harry.

"The snowball fight last year," I reminded him.

"That's right."

"You're not related to Mundungus Fletcher are you?" asked Ron.

"Er…distantly," I replied. Dad didn't really like to talk about him much, as he was something of a disgrace. "He's my dad's second cousin, so I don't know what that makes me. Dad said I met him when I was a baby, but I don't remember. Why, do you know him?"

I was hoping that Ron only knew _of_ him, as I wasn't particularly looking forward to a conversation about how Cousin Mundungus had cheated him out of his valuables. Such a conversation had happened once before and I wasn't looking forward to repeating it.

"Met him once in the Leaky Cauldron," said Ron quickly, as Harry delivered a not-so-subtle kick to his shins. I breathed an inner sigh of relief.

"So…about the meetings…" began Harry, seemingly keen on a change of subject.

"You do understand that this has to be kept absolutely secret?" interrupted Hermione briskly as she shut her book and walked over to me.

"Yes," I replied, once again feeling slightly intimidated by the fifth year.

"You understand what happens if we're caught?" she asked. "We're breaking several of the decrees, not to mention some actual school rules. We'll all be punished and—"

"Relax, Hermione," said George. "I told her, she knows."

"Well she's signing up late, isn't she?" retorted Hermione. "You've got to consider—"

"She's not going—"

"Look, I know it must seem slightly dodgy," I admitted, interrupting George. "I didn't want to join earlier because…well, I was scared. But this weekend with the Quidditch match…it changed things for me."

Hermione looked at me appraisingly before turning to Ron and Harry.

"Well?" she said.

"Well, if she's related to 'Dung, she can't be all that bad," said Ron after a few moments. Hermione shot a slightly annoyed look at him.

"You know she mouthed off to Umbridge?" added George somewhat proudly. "Said a theory-based course was rubbish. Umbridge took ten points."

"Well, it's settled then," stated Harry, grinning. He stuck out his hand. "Welcome to Dumbledore's Army."

Hermione had me add my name to the bottom of the group's roster, a piece of parchment that hung on the wall near the front of the room. She showed me the fake Galleon they used to communicate and said she'd have one for me within the week. When I expressed awe over the fact that she had managed to perform a Protean Charm as a fifth year, she smiled and seemed to abandon some of her earlier suspicion.

Zacharias Smith was a completely different matter.

"Who's she?" he asked suspiciously when everyone had filed into the room.

"This is our new member, Sophie Fletcher," explained Harry.

"How d'you know we can trust her?" Smith wanted to know.

"We can," said Harry simply. Smith's face worked into a sneer.

"Yeah? How d'you know she won't go straight to Umbridge?"

"Why don't you stuff it, Smith?" asked Fred loudly. To my dismay, I noticed that several other people seemed the share Smith's opinion and were regarding me shiftily. George put a protective arm around my shoulders and I felt slightly better.

"Listen," stated Harry, "we've worked too hard to get this group together. We're not going to do anything stupid to muck it up."

"You're one to talk about not doing anything stupid, Potter," sneered Smith. Harry's eyes narrowed angrily and he seemed to be debating whether he wished to prove his reputation as a hothead. Luckily, Fred decided to intervene.

"Why don't you stick your wand up your—"

"Enough!" snapped Hermione. Everyone in the room turned to look at her. "Honestly. We've thought this through; Sophie isn't going to tell anyone. And we haven't got all night to debate this, so why don't we just drop it?"

"She mouthed off to Umbridge as well," added Ron, after a moment of slightly uncomfortable silence.

Maybe it was Hermione's cool reasoning; maybe it was Ron's spur of the moment declaration. But whatever it was, the tempers and suspicion in the room seemed to mellow slightly and Harry began discussing the importance of Impediment Jinxes.

We broke off into pairs shortly after Harry's lecture and George and I ended up working together. Harry came over rather early into the practice and asked me to demonstrate some of the spells that the group had worked on previously. My Shield Charms were decent, but my attempts at Disarming Charms and Stunning Spells were woefully inadequate. Harry had me alternate practicing Disarming Charms and Stunning Spells in addition to Impediment Jinxes.

The meeting seemed to pass awfully fast. I hadn't gotten much better at Disarming or Stunning, but both Harry and George said I had made progress, so I decided to take their word for it. Overall, I was having a better feeling about the group and my previous reasons for avoiding it seemed increasingly foolish.

"What did you think?" asked George as we waited to leave the room in small groups.

"It was interesting," I replied.

"Ready to try out a few of those on Viv?" asked Fred with a grin.

"No," I said, swatting him.

"Not until her Disarming Charm is stronger, at any rate," stated George. I rolled my eyes.

I hate to sound selfish and horrible, but it was rather nice having Fred and George banned from Quidditch. It was now too cold to go out on the grounds to do homework, so it was nice having a few people around me in the common room or in the library. Angelina finally found replacements for Fred, George, and Harry, so she was less irritable than usual (although she was more prone to yelling at Fred than usual). Alicia continued to be secretive and dreamy, but even that didn't seem quite as bad as it had before. Things were definitely beginning to look up.

Term seemed to accelerate leading up to Christmas. The D. A. had its final meeting the day before we left for the holidays. I had finally mastered Stunning, although my Disarming Charm still needed a lot of work. Harry said that we would maybe begin working on the Patronus Charm after break, which everyone was quite excited about. All of us were fairly exhausted at the end of the day and turned in rather early.

The next morning arrived with the usual amount of chaos. Although we had all packed the night before, it seemed as though there were an infinite number of items that had somehow forgotten to make their way into our trunks. The fact that two of us weren't speaking only complicated matters. We all finally trooped downstairs, where Viv promptly abandoned us, explaining to Alicia and Angelina that she had to meet Dan. I wasn't particularly sorry to be rid of her company.

"Where are they?" asked Angelina, glancing at her watch. "We're going to miss the train if they don't hurry."

"Lee probably overslept," said Alicia. At that moment, the boy in question came clambering down the stairs with his trunk, looking somewhat disheveled.

"Finally," said Angelina. "Where are the others?"

"I thought maybe you would know," said Lee, shrugging his jacket on. "They were gone when I woke up this morning. Trunks and everything."

"We haven't seen them," reported Alicia.

"Maybe Ron or Ginny will know," suggested Angelina.

However, upon closer inspection, we realized that the room was noticeably bereft of redheads, which made us all rather concerned.

"Those boys are in Ron's dormitory," said Alicia, gesturing to Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan. "Angelina, go ask them what's happened."

"Why me?" asked Angelina.

"Because you're authoritative."

"You're a prefect! You ask!"

"But you're more intimidating than I am!"

Angelina sighed and rolled her eyes as she started to walk over to the two boys.

"Honestly, Alicia, sometimes you're impossible."

"I may be impossible, but I can get people to do what I want," said Alicia with a satisfied grin as Angelina engaged the boys in a whispered conversation. Lee looked slightly unsettled at this declaration. I simply shook my head.

"There was an emergency," Angelina said when she returned few minutes later. "Harry went with them as well. They weren't particularly clear on what happened…said McGonagall made them swear not to breathe a word to anyone."

The four of us exchanged a look.

"We'll write them on the train," said Alicia finally.

There were two major flaws in this plan. The first was that none of us owned an owl, so I ended up having to send the letter from my house later that evening. The second was that we were all in a festive mood and our letter turned out something like this:

_(Written by us all; transcribed by Sophie because her handwriting is the neatest)_

_Dear Fred and George,_

_We woke this morning to find you departed for parts unknown. Lee, __the useless lump...sorry, Lee saying we should change that to '__outstandingly handsome young man__'...now Alicia's suggesting 'reoccurring problem'...__right, we've agreed on 'who was apparently very tired', somehow managed to sleep through said departure, so we're not sure why you've left. By __interrogating random people...sorry, Angelina has demanded...er, requested that we change that to__ 'asking around', Angelina was able to determine that there was some sort of emergency. We all hope that everything's all right. We're all quite worried. Please send us word as soon as you can._

_You've missed an eventful train ride. Alicia already has a list of offenders she will be reporting to their heads of house and Lee orchestrated a minor explosion near a group of sixth year Slytherins. Lee says that this was the best moment of his life and that you ought to have been there._

_We hope you have a good holiday and that everything's all right. Again, please send word when you can._

_Happy Christmas!_

_Love from:_

_Sophie, Angelina, Alicia, and...hold on a moment...Lee's yelling about something...__  
_

_From,_

_Lee_

_(who thought 'love' wasn't 'manly enough to express [his manful manliness.' Whatever that means.)_

However, I did get a reply several days later:

_Dear Sophie,_

_Thanks for the letter—it made me laugh. If you wouldn't mind passing word onto the others, I'd appreciate it. I'd rather not write four different letters, as I haven't had much sleep during the past few days. Fred would be writing this as well, but he's sleeping at the moment. _

_Dad had an accident, but he's doing much better now and is expected to make a full recovery. It's all rather complicated, so I'd rather tell you about it in person. The main thing is that he's fine and we're fine. Well, maybe not 'fine'—Mum's out of her mind with worry and none of us have gotten much sleep lately, but we're going to be fine. Tell everyone not to worry (that includes you)._

_Hope you have a good holiday. I'd suggest that we all meet up in Diagon Alley, but I doubt that we'll get out of the house much with everything that's happening. Happy Christmas—expect your gift in the next few days._

_Love,_

_George _

I quickly jotted off brief notes to Angelina, Alicia, and Lee before penning a reply to George.

_Dear George (and Fred, if you're awake),_

_I've owled Angelina, Alicia, and Lee as you requested. I'm glad to hear your dad is doing well and I hope he continues to make a quick recovery. I will continue to worry until I know everything's all right (I know you said not to, but honestly, George, who do you think you're dealing with?)._

_I'll have your gifts in the post in the next few days. And as you're not actually going to be around me when I open your gift, there's really no need to make it explode when I open it, is there? (Hint, hint)._

_Love, _

_Sophie_

Of course, when my gift (a reading light that only gives light to the reader) did arrive, the box gave such a loud explosion that Mum came running into the kitchen because she thought that the roof had collapsed. I suppose there was no harm in asking, though.

The holiday seemed to go all too fast and before I knew it, I was back on the Hogwarts Express and heading for another term. It was just Angelina, Alicia, Lee, and I on the train again, as Fred and George were coming directly to Hogsmeade Station. When we finally met up with them, Angelina told them off for scaring us half to death and then demanded to know what had happened. However, Fred and George's explanation of their father's injury—a bad snake bite sustained on a raid—seemed to be rather vague, much like their explanation of where they had been that summer. However, we were mostly satisfied with the news that Mr. Weasley was well and no one pushed it further.

I could feel the pressure more distinctly now that I was on the other side of December. Not only did we have N. E. W. T.s at the end of the year, there was also the added anxiety of trying to find some sort of employment after Hogwarts. Alicia was already sending her résumé to potential employers, making the rest of us feel decidedly unaccomplished. Fred and George's laissez-faire attitude toward academics was somewhat infectious and enough to keep me slightly unmotivated.

There was also a massive Azkaban breakout the day we got back to school, which just made everyone paranoid. Those of us who weren't inclined to believe the Ministry or the_ Prophet_ noticed that all the escapees were once prominent Death Eaters. There were no dementors at the castle gates this year, unlike when Sirius Black escaped during fifth year. I was grateful because they were quite terrifying, but at the same time, their absence made me feel slightly less secure and rather uneasy. Where were they if they weren't guarding us and (apparently) not guarding Azkaban?

Following the trend of bad news, it also appeared that Umbridge had not become a kinder person or a better teacher over the holiday. The first indication of this was the news of Hagrid's probation, which caused more of an outrage than Trelawney's probation. Hagrid was very well liked, although he wasn't necessarily the most adept teacher. I had dropped Care of Magical Creatures sixth year, but it certainly wasn't because of Hagrid. All right, there _were_ some classes where I wasn't certain if I'd make it out alive, but he was really all right. If anything, I imagine Umbridge put him on probation because his methods weren't exactly traditional, although Fred reckoned it was because he was half-giant and Umbridge was prejudiced. It wouldn't have surprised me if he turned out to be right.

In addition to that piece of news, another educational decree was posted. This one banned teachers from giving students information not related to their subject of expertise.

"Well, I suppose that means we're not in danger of Snape telling us about his romantic conquests," stated Fred as we read the decree on the notice board.

"Would've been a short lecture," said George.

However, Lee took the decree the next level the next day in class.

Fred and George had long since grown bored of remaining still and silent when Umbridge expected us to read, especially after they had been banned from Quidditch. Instead, they turned to their own devices for entertainment. During our first Defense Against the Dark Arts class after Umbridge's latest decree, they decided to entertain themselves with a particularly spirited game of Exploding Snap.

It was not long before Umbridge's patience also snapped (if you'll excuse the pun).

"What do you think you're doing?" she asked sweetly in an apparent attempt to disguise her anger.

"I thought it was pretty obvious," said Fred, looking up from his cards.

Her smile didn't falter.

"Ten points for your cheek, Mr. Weasley, and I think another twenty each for playing games during my class. You are showing disre—_what is it_, _Mr. Jordan_?"

Lee had been waving his hand obnoxiously in the air for the past few minutes. I got the sense that Umbridge would have liked nothing more than to hex the offending limb into oblivion.

"You can't do that," he said, triumphantly.

"Excuse me, Mr. Jordan?" asked Umbridge, her eyes narrowing slightly. "It's not your place to tell me what I can and cannot do. Ten points from Gryffindor."

"Exploding Snap's got nothing to do with Defense Against the Dark Arts, Professor!" he said boldly. There were a few scattered sniggers. "That's not information relating to your subject!"

I'm not sure if Umbridge was angrier with Lee or Henry Grogan, who had nearly fallen out of his seat from laughing so hard.

"Three days' detention, Mr. Jordan," said Umbridge coldly. "Perhaps you will learn to control your impertinence in my class."

"He was only—" protested Fred, angrily.

"_Hand_, Mr. Weasley," she snapped.

I don't know what made me say it. I don't know why I just didn't say it later, away from her classroom. But before Fred could raise his hand, I opened my mouth and spoke.

"I suppose that's the advantage of being a tyrant," I said, loudly and clearly. "You don't have to enforce your own rules when it benefits you personally."

A deathly silence followed and my cheeks flushed crimson with the knowledge that I had just said that out loud. Umbridge regarded me beadily for a moment.

"You will be joining Mr. Jordan, Miss Fletcher," she said finally, with an angry, but self-satisfied smile twisting the corners of her mouth. My cheeks burned even hotter. I had never had a detention. "And twenty points from Gryffindor apiece. If the rest of you don't wish to join Mr. Jordan and Miss Fletcher, I suggest you return to your reading."

George made to throw his deck of cards as she stalked back to the front of the room. I quickly caught his wrist and shook my head.

"It's not worth it," I said quietly. George held my gaze for a few more moments, but his arm relaxed slightly and I released my grip.

"Mr. Weasley, Miss Fletcher, back to your books," said Umbridge. "Mr. Grogan, if you do not remove yourself from the floor, I shall take twenty points from Hufflepuff."

I dropped my gaze and resumed my reading.

"I have never been more proud of you," said Fred, slinging an arm around my shoulders as we left the classroom. "My protégée is finally growing up."

"I don't recall ever being your protégée," I replied, arching an eyebrow.

"It's not something you voluntarily sign up for," Fred informed me. "I chose you."

"Oh? And when did you choose me?" I inquired.

"Five minutes ago."

"You must have put so much effort into me."

"Blood, sweat, and tears," said Fred proudly.

"You know we lost one hundred points between the four of us," stated George. "That's got to be a record." Alicia rolled her eyes.

"What d'you reckon she'll have us do?" asked Lee.

I shrugged. "I've heard it's mainly lines."

"Shouldn't be too bad then, eh?"

Lee and I left for Umbridge's office that evening after a very hurried dinner. The Gryffindor table had applauded when we got up and left the Great Hall—apparently word had traveled fast. Lee gave a few elaborate bows while I laughed and tried not to look too embarrassed (especially when Fred and George started catcalling. Honestly).

We joked most of the way to Umbridge's office. Neither of us was particularly worried about the detention and I had even abandoned my disappointment of not having a perfectly clean record. After all, as Lee had put it, when the Ministry finally comes to their senses, people will realize what a raving cow Umbridge was and it wouldn't really matter.

We both quieted as we reached Umbridge's office. Lee reached up and knocked on the door.

"Enter," called Umbridge, slightly too cheerfully for the occasion. Lee opened the door.

Until that point in my life, I was not aware that it was possible for kittens to be ugly. In general, her office was an assault on the eyes. Everything was frilly and hideously pink. Unsightly kittens bedecked every surface and were prominently featured on porcelain plates on the walls. Amid this mess of color and fluff sat Umbridge herself.

"Good evening," she greeted.

"Good evening, Professor," Lee and I mumbled together.

"You will both be doing some lines for me this evening," she stated, reaching in one of the drawers of her desk. "Mr. Jordan, you will write _I must not be impertinent_; Miss Fletcher, you will write _I must respect my teacher._" She withdrew two long and pointed quills from her desk. "You will use these."

I went and took the quill from her hand. My eyes widened as I got a good look at the quill. It was a Scarring Stylograph, a quill that wrote in the flesh of your hand and used your blood as ink.

"Is there a problem, Miss Fletcher?" asked Professor Umbridge sweetly.

"My dad treated a lot of patients a few years back for severe cuts from a bad batch of these quills," I replied.

"Ah…yes, that was a pity," said Professor Umbridge, not looking very empathetic at all.

"Yes, it was," I said. "That's why they were banned."

We stared at each other for a few moments.

"It wouldn't do for a Ministry-appointed official to be using banned items on students, would it Professor?" I asked. "Especially items that were declared 'dangerous' and 'cruel'. It would be enough for the official to be sacked—"

"It appears that three detentions isn't going to cure you of your insolence, Miss Fletcher," interrupted Professor Umbridge sharply. "I think a full week is in order."

"What?" exclaimed Lee. "You—"

"Mr. Jordan, I suggest you mind your attitude unless you wish to join Miss Fletcher."

"It's not worth it," I said quickly to Lee. "Please…don't."

Lee reluctantly shut his mouth before taking his quill from Umbridge and sitting down at the little table in front of the window. I followed him while Umbridge sat in her chair like a self-satisfied slug.

Lee and I returned to the common room late that evening, the backs of our hands raw and sore. Fred, George, Angelina, and Alicia were all waiting up for us.

"What happened?" asked Angelina once she caught sight of us.

Lee and I exchanged a look.

"She made us do lines," said Lee finally.

"Then it wasn't too bad?" asked George. "I knew I ought to have thrown those cards at her…"

"She made us use a Scarring Stylograph," I said grimly. Everyone looked mildly confused.

"A what?" asked Alicia.

"It's a quill…and when you write with it, it cuts the words onto the back of your hand and uses the blood as ink on the paper," I explained, absently rubbing the back of my injured hand. "They were banned about ten years ago after a bad batch injured a lot of people. It was rather obscure, so not a lot of people heard about it, but my dad treated some of the cases."

Fred and George looked shocked, Angelina had clapped her hands over her mouth, but Alicia had the strangest reaction of all. She looked up at Lee before flinging herself at him and hugging him tightly. Lee lost his balance momentarily before returning the hug. Initially I expected it to be awkward, but he looked fairly comfortable in Alicia's arms.

"Oh, Lee, that evil, foul, twisted hag," mumbled Alicia into his shoulder.

"I knew it," declared Angelina.

"Knew what?" asked Fred.

"You're dating, aren't you?" she declared, looking triumphant.

Lee looked sheepish. Alicia still had her head buried in his shoulder.

"I _knew_ it!" repeated Angelina, jumping to her feet. Her expression changed slightly and she marched over to Alicia and Lee and hit them both on the shoulder.

"Ow!"

"What was that for?" asked Lee.

"_Why didn't you tell me_?" she demanded.

"We—er—didn't want to make things awkward," said Lee. "We thought we'd try it for a while and see how it went before we told you."

"And we thought you'd laugh," added Alicia, finally detaching herself from Lee.

"We wouldn't laugh!" protested Angelina.

"Well, we thought that Fred and George would laugh," Alicia corrected herself.

Fred rolled his eyes. "Only a _little_."

"We're only human," shrugged George.

"How long has this been going on?" I asked.

"Since summer," said Alicia.

"That sounds about right," I stated.

"What d'you mean?"

"Well, you weren't exactly subtle," I replied. "'Lee, we've got to go to Divination', all your mysterious appointments…we're not _that_ thick, Alicia."

"It was the best I could come up with," protested Alicia. "I don't think well under pressure."

"I just wish you had told us sooner," said Angelina. "We all suspected it anyway."

"So you…you don't mind?" asked Alicia, tentatively.

"Well, I was hoping to have Lee for myself," sighed Fred with mock sadness.

"But it seems you've stolen him right from under our noses, so I suppose we'll have to settle for a loveless life," said George with a similar air.

Alicia rolled her eyes, but she looked quite happy all the same. "_All right_. You've made your point."

"Well, now that we've settled that, why don't we get back you lot having your hands sliced open?" said Fred conversationally.

"What are you going to do?" asked Alicia, taking Lee's hand and examining it worriedly. "Oh, Lee, it looks all swollen!"

"Other hand, love," chuckled Lee, giving her his right hand, which still looked quite raw.

"I don't know what we can do," I sighed. "It seems like she gets more powerful every day."

"Shall we go to McGonagall?" asked Lee.

"Maybe…but not until the detentions are over," I replied. "It would be just like Umbridge to extend our detentions for reporting her. And I'd rather not see what other banned items she's got in that desk of hers."

Unfortunately, the first detention wasn't the worst. It was all right when Lee was there, as there was a silent sense of camaraderie between the two of us. Also comforting was the idea that we could both easily overtake Umbridge and turn her into a tea cozy if worse came to worse. But when Lee's three days were up, my other two detentions seemed particularly unbearable. By the end of Thursday evening, my hand ached and I was fantasizing about throwing the pointed quill into the center of her forehead like a dart. By the end of the week, I was behind on most of my homework and the cuts on my hand were open and bleeding profusely. Chucking a quill at her seemed almost too kind.

"Let me see," demanded George when I returned to the common room late on Friday evening. Lee had somehow discovered that murtlap essence helped with the pain and a fresh bowl and some clean bandages were ready for me on the table.

"It's fine," I said, sitting down on the couch. Something on my face must have betrayed me, because George rolled his eyes, sat down next to me and took my wrist in his hand.

"She's an evil hag," declared Alicia, passing George some bandages as he carefully examined the back of my hand.

"At least I have neat handwriting," I said, trying to sound lighthearted as George mopped up the blood. "Would you mind handing me the bowl?"

"You're going to report her," stated George as Alicia passed me the murtlap essence.

"I'll try to speak with McGonagall tomorrow," I promised.

"I'll hold you to that," warned George.

But McGonagall found me before I found her. At breakfast the next day, a note was delivered to me.

_Miss Fletcher,_

_Kindly see me in my office at 11:00 this morning._

_--Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress._

"D'you reckon she knows?" asked Alicia after she had read the note. I shrugged.

"I suppose I'll find out."

At eleven o'clock, I was standing outside of the door of Professor McGonagall's office. I knocked on the door.

"Enter," said a voice from inside. I opened the door and walked into the room. Professor McGonagall was sitting at her desk, a stack of parchment in front of her.

"Miss Fletcher," she greeted. "Please sit." I sat down in the hard-backed chair in front of her desk. "Professor Umbridge tells me you had detention this past week."

"Yes, Professor," I replied.

"I've known you to be a very well-behaved student, Miss Fletcher," said Professor McGonagall. "You have never received a detention prior to this."

"Yes, Professor."

McGonagall peered over her glasses at me. "Why did you receive this detention?"

"I called Professor Umbridge a tyrant," I replied. Professor McGonagall arched an eyebrow, but said nothing. "She gave Lee Jordan detention because he said that she couldn't tell off Fred and George Weasley for playing Exploding Snap because it had nothing to do with her subject. And…well…I said it was an abuse of power to write educational decrees but not enforce them on herself."

"As I understand it, Mr. Jordan was being impertinent for the sake of being impertinent," she stated.

"But he was right, Professor," I replied. "He didn't go about saying it in the best way, but he was right."

"That does not excuse Mr. Jordan for his impertinence and it does not excuse you for calling Professor Umbridge a tyrant," said Professor McGonagall. I was slightly surprised at her lack of empathy. "At least not in the eyes of Professor Umbridge."

Her tone seemed to indicate that she thought otherwise and I felt much better.

"I know…I just said it before I could think properly," I replied. "She just makes me so angry, Professor."

"I understand, Miss Fletcher," said Professor McGonagall, her expression softening slightly. "But you must understand that it is not wise to make Dolores Umbridge your enemy. Not with the way the Min—" She cleared her throat. "Not with the way things are now."

"I don't intend to," I said.

"Good. Now, if there isn't anything else—"

"Actually, Professor, I wanted to have a word with you," I said quickly. "It's about my detentions with Professor Umbridge."

Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "What about your detentions?"

I quickly unwound the bandage from my right hand where "I must respect my teacher" was emblazoned in bloody letters. Professor McGonagall gasped.

"She uses a Scarring Stylograph. They were banned years ago."

"I remember," she said, carefully looking at my hand. "One of my students was given one as a prank…a nasty bit of business…"

"Something has to be done. She can't do this," I said quickly, my voice thick with the panic I had been holding back.

"Unfortunately, Miss Fletcher, there's nothing that I can do," said Professor McGonagall sadly.

"What?"

"Educational Decree Number Twenty-five gives the Hogwarts High Inquisitor power over all student punishments," she said hollowly. "I'm afraid I have little authority." I opened my mouth to protest. "_However_, I will make sure that the Headmaster is aware of this. In the meantime, I suggest you avoid further detentions with Professor Umbridge."

I sighed heavily. "Yes, Professor."

"And get to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey will be able to fix that up easily," she said.

"Yes, Professor."

"It will be all right, Miss Fletcher," stated Professor McGonagall with a small half-smile.

But despite the confidence in her voice, I couldn't help but wonder if Umbridge could be stopped at all.

**A/N:** The dialogue, "Banned. _Banned_. No…Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow and find we haven't played yet" was written by J.K. Rowling and can be found in _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_. Additionally, Lee Jordan's dialogue to Professor Umbridge "Exploding Snap's got nothing…relating to your subject!" was also written by J.K. Rowling and can be found in _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_. The narrative parts within these pieces of dialogue were written by me. The Scarring Stylograph story was also created by me—as far as I know, Rowling never explained the story behind Umbridge's quill.


	9. Confrontations

**Disclaimer: **I _wish_…

**Author's Note: **Oh, you guys…you're fabulous, but I'm sure you knew that. If you haven't reviewed yet, please feel free to do so! Reviews make the world go round (I bet you thought it had something to do with the sun's gravitational pull, but really, it's reviews).

_Chapter 9: Confrontations _

I have always hated Valentine's Day. When I was younger, it was an excuse for odd Herbert Byron to put some revolting pink doily confection in our mailbox. The worst part was that Mum always insisted that I thank him for his "sweet" gesture. Naturally, this escalated into an argument until Dad returned home with the flowers and chocolates that he had inevitably forgotten until the very last moment. And even though Mum was annoyed with us both at that point, Dad's clumsy attempts at romance usually smoothed things over.

However, at Hogwarts, Valentine's Day was different, to say the least. It didn't really turn into an awkward holiday until around fourth year. Of course, this also had to be the year that Professor Lockhart thought it was entirely necessary to unleash a band of poetically inclined dwarves upon the school. Worse still was the fact that odd Herbert Byron turned about to be a wizard and had not wavered in his childhood affection of me.

Professor Snape was in a worse mood than usual that Valentine's Day and we were all half dreading and half anticipating a musical interruption, simply because Snape's reaction would be a show in itself. We didn't have to wait long. The dwarf stumped into the Potions classroom ten minutes after class begun. Snape immediately swooped down upon the dwarf.

"May I ask what you're doing in my classroom?" he asked in a sharp and clipped tone.

"I've got to deliver a singing Valentine," said the dwarf gruffly. He squinted at the paper in front of him. "Is there a Sophie Fletcher here?"

I could have died. My face seemed hotter than the fire that was heating my cauldron in front of me. It was a good thing I was sitting down, because I'm certain my knees would have given way.

"Well, well," said Snape, his lip curling in a sort of twisted amusement. He turned to me. "Miss Fletcher, it seems you have a special delivery."

"C-could you maybe come back later?" I said quietly to the dwarf, who was fiddling with the strings on his harp.

"Oh no, Miss Fletcher," said Snape softly, "this _must_ be worth the interruption."

"Right," said the dwarf. He cleared his throat and began to sing:

_Her smile is brighter than the rays of the sun,  
She's much better than any trophy,  
She is pretty and smart  
She has stolen my heart,  
That wonderful, lovely Sophie._

I could have died _before_ the dwarf started singing; _after_ his song ended, I wasn't sure if I actually qualified as a living being. I thanked the dwarf weakly amid the gales of laughter from my classmates as he handed me what I recognized as one of Herbert Byron's valentines.

"Back to your work," said Snape lazily as the dwarf walked out of the classroom. "And ten points from Gryffindor for the disruption, Miss Fletcher."

The only good that came out of the fiasco was that it gave me sufficient reason to approach Herbert Byron and tell him that if he ever did something like that again, I would personally hunt him down and turn him into a hedgehog. Luckily for Herbert, his ego and his heart were not so easily bruised—he was actively pursuing Portia Foster not a week later.

In fifth year, I had my first breakup on Valentine's Day. One month prior to February 14th, Kenneth Towler had caught me in the library and nervously said that he fancied me very much and asked if I would like to go out with him. When I said yes, he kissed me, although I suppose it would be more accurate to say that he embraced his inner sheepdog and slobbered all over my face. However, our relationship was cut short a month later on Valentine's Day when I walked in on him "tutoring" Patricia Stimpson (and by "tutoring", I mean snogging). It's just as well, I suppose. He was a cheater and a terrible kisser (to this day I'm not sure why Patricia was snogging him so enthusiastically). I didn't feel very sorry for him when he came down with a bad case of boils a few days after we broke up.

After the Kenneth Towler incident, Alicia, Angelina, Viv, and I all decided that future Valentine's Days would be spent in the company of each other, because the day itself was simply useless and troublesome. Of course, in the spirit of the holiday, this plan only worked during sixth year, and not very well because Viv had to leave us halfway through the day to meet up with Dan.

Angelina, Alicia, and I hadn't really discussed what would happen after Viv and I stopped speaking. I assumed that Viv would spend the entire day with Dan, as that's what generally happened as of late. But of course in the spirit of the holiday, that's not what happened. Dan was ill, Viv cheerfully informed an inquiring Alicia, so she was free to spend the day in Hogsmeade as she pleased.

How bloody wonderful.

The morning was fairly strained, but it got worse after Alicia left us. Lee had promised her a romantic lunch and she had departed looking particularly happy and giddy, which was the opposite of what I was currently feeling. Angelina, Viv, and I went into the Three Broomsticks and ordered butterbeers.

"So, er, how are things with Dan?" asked Angelina once we'd sat down.

"Really well, thanks," replied Viv with a smile. "I can't believe it's been over a year!"

"Yeah, that's great," agreed Angelina. There was a strained silence. "And—er, Sophie do you have anyone special in your life?"

I gave her a confused sort of look. She knew perfectly well that there was no one "special" in my life—otherwise I'd be out with them, given the significance of the date and all. She shrugged, almost as if to say, "I haven't _got_ anything else."

"No, Angelina, I haven't," I replied politely. "Do you?"

"No," she said, blushing slightly. "Focusing on my classes and the like."

"Oh, I see."

There was an awkward silence.

"All right, I've had it!" Angelina finally declared, causing both Viv and me to jump. "You are both being stupid. You're best friends and you haven't said a word to each other since September. This has got to stop."

I could tell that this conversation was not going to end well.

"Angelina, you don't want to get into this," I warned her.

"Yes, I do!" she exclaimed, looking angry. "I'm tired of trying to live in the same dormitory with you two! It's bloody exhausting and I want it to stop! Just apologize and move on!"

"We're beyond apologies at the point," said Viv. I felt as though I'd been punched in the stomach. Angry as I was, I assumed there'd be some point where we reconciled.

"You can't be 'beyond apologies', not when you're best friends" snapped Angelina. "And if it turns out you are, we'll work something else out. Just so this stops and the two of you start acting like friends again."

"Some hurts are too deep to mend," stated Vivian.

"What? I questioned the absolute word of the Ministry. How does harm you?" I asked sharply.

For the first time in months, Viv met my eyes.

"You know very well you said things that were worse than that."

"As bad as what you called me, Vivian?"

"I suppose now you'll accuse me of lying," she said, looking rather bored, "but don't you accept lies as truth, _Sophia_?"

"I could say the same about you."

"I could say a lot of things about you," she said coldly. "They think you're a bit of a joke in Ravenclaw, you know."

"Funny, I thought they were supposed to be clever," I snapped. "But if they're Dan's friends, I don't really care what they think of me. You've already proven what kind of character they possess."

"They say you're weak-minded, naïve…" she continued lazily.

"Viv…" interrupted Angelina.

"No, she ought to hear this," said Viv. "It's for her own good, really."

"I don't think so," I replied, getting to my feet. "If I wanted to hear rubbish, I'd listen to Dan Crawford and his fool of a father. I'm going back. Thanks anyway, Angelina."

I hurried out of the Three Broomsticks as quickly as I could. It was raining fairly heavily outside and the air felt sharp and cool in my lungs, which I liked—that way, I could pretend that my eyes welled up with tears because of how the air cut into my lungs and the back of my throat. I had thought—or hoped—that my next encounter with Vivian would have been a step toward reconciliation. Although it had been months since we'd spoken, I didn't actually expect it to go on indefinitely. But what she had said—what we had _both_ said—stung like an old wound reopening. There was a deep ache along my sternum, that place that hurts whenever you cried yourself past the point of sorrow and you're crying to relieve the weighty ache in your chest. The place that feels closest to your heart.

I took a few gulps of air and willed myself to remain calm as I started to make my way through the muddy streets and back to the castle.

However, it seemed that by some law of nature, I was required to run into George Weasley whenever I was even remotely upset. This I did quite literally as he was coming out of Zonko's.

"Oh, sorry," I apologized, as my feet slipped and slid in the mud. He grabbed hold of my elbow to prevent me from falling.

"Nothing to worry about," he said with a grin as he steadied me. "Have you seen Fred?"

"I just came from the Three Broomsticks and I didn't see him there," I replied. "I haven't seen him since we left, actually."

"Eh, must be at Honeydukes, then." He frowned. "All right? You look pale."

"Yeah," I shrugged. "I—er—exchanged some words with Vivian. It's nothing I haven't heard before."

He looked concerned. "You sure?"

"I'll be fine," I assured him. "I think I'll head back early and get some work done."

"D'you want company?"

"No, I'm fine," I said, trying to look chipper. "I need some time alone, I think. I imagine that you've got plans, anyway."

"Are you sure?" he asked, looking serious. "Fred and I weren't going to do much…just set off some fireworks behind Alicia and Lee, nothing important. It doesn't have to be today—we could do it any time, really."

I laughed weakly. "No, go on. I imagine they could always use a little more excitement on their date. But don't tell Alicia I said so, or she'll hex me."

George didn't look particularly convinced, but he let me squelch alone toward the castle. It was one of those moments where I truly appreciated George Weasley—both his concern and the fact that he was willing to let me have a moment to myself. I thought about this as I walked up to the castle, all the while privately grumbling about how much I hate Valentine's Day.

* * *

I was curled up on the couch and doing some reading for History of Magic when everyone got back from Hogsmeade. Angelina sought me out immediately, sitting down in the chair next to me.

"I'm sorry, Sophie," she said, truly looking it.

"It's all right," I replied, shutting my book. "I imagine it's not very fun trying to live with the two of us. I would have done the same thing."

"I just…I don't know why she said those things," said Angelina, looking slightly disbelieving. "That's not like her at all."

"It _wasn't_ like her," I corrected her.

"I tried to talk to her about it, but she didn't want to." She smiled suddenly. "Said she didn't want me taking sides. You're quite alike, the two of you. That's why it's murder watching this, you know?"

"Yeah, I know." I smiled sadly. George came over and flopped down in the seat next to me, while Fred took one of the spare armchairs.

"You look chipper," commented George. "Feeling better?"

"Yes, much," I replied as George took my textbook from my hands.

"Why is that every time you're angry, you take out this bloody book?" he asked. "History of Magic is bad enough as it is."

"It's self-flagellation," agreed Fred. I rolled my eyes.

"Well, you're done with the goblins for this evening," said George, unceremoniously tossing the book on the floor.

"Actually, we're studying Grindelwald right now," I corrected him. "Goblin rebellions were mainly last year."

"No matter," said George dismissively. "The Exploding Snap World Championship is scheduled for this evening, and Lee is off somewhere—"

"Presumably snogging Alicia," supplied Fred helpfully.

"Most likely," agreed George. "Anyway, you're his second, so you've got to play in his place."

"Since when?" I asked, never having agreed to such a thing.

"Since I decided five minutes ago," replied George promptly.

"Honestly, Sophie, History of Magic or Exploding Snap?" said Fred like there wasn't much of a choice to be made.

"Besides, you look like you could use a laugh," added George with a smile.

"You're ridiculous," I replied.

"I'm glad you agree with us," said George as though he hadn't heard me. He withdrew a pack of cards from his pocket and began shuffling.

"Do you want to play, Angelina?" asked Fred.

"Er…" Angelina glanced up at the clock. "No, I've got to prepare for practice. Kirke and Sloper still aren't at one hundred percent and we've got a match coming up."

"Psh," said Fred dismissively. "Who needs plans for practice? You can just improvise."

"Not when Oliver Wood is writing you nearly every week and insisting on reliving every play of every match," sighed Angelina. "He wasn't very pleased about you lot being banned."

"What does it matter to him?" asked George. "He's not captain anymore, is he?"

"Wood is still very…committed to the team," said Angelina, seeming to choose her words carefully.

Fred grinned. "He's a maniac, you mean."

"Essentially," agreed Angelina. She glanced at the clock again. "All right, I'll be down later. Have fun with your game."

The Exploding Snap World Championship turned out to be a fairly exuberant affair that lasted for quite a while. Although Fred and I were tied for the majority of the game, George made a spectacular come-from-behind victory. Despite my earlier reservations, it was exactly what I needed. By the end of the game, the incident with Viv was the farthest thing from my mind.

* * *

Despite the fact that Fred and George were no longer on the Quidditch team, they still had a vested interest in the team itself. So naturally, their newest hobby became spying on practice, despite the fact that Angelina had expressly forbidden them to do so. They insisted in including me on these ventures (though I refused to go when it was raining), which they treated more like reconnaissance missions. The stealth part of the endeavor was taken much too seriously, especially when Fred insisted that we all have code names—Gred, Forge, and Hopsie. The practices themselves were often depressing. I know very little about Quidditch and even I could tell that it was a lost cause. I was excited for the match against Hufflepuff only because I had Fred and George to sit with. 

"Well, this will be depressing," remarked Fred as we waited for the teams to assemble on the pitch.

"Oh, don't be so cheerful, Fred," I replied dryly.

"What? You've seen the practices," said Fred.

"I have some faith in miracles, I suppose," I said.

"Hi, Sophie!" said Brenna breathlessly, as she and Kathleen wove their way through the crowd. "D'you mind if we sit with you?"

"Not at all," I replied.

"It's our favorite test subjects!" greeted Fred warmly as they sat down.

"Yes," I said, arching an eyebrow at Brenna. "I thought I had warned you about this lot."

"Oh, really, it's not that bad," insisted Brenna.

"They work out the problems in the end," added Kathleen.

"This why they're our favorites," said George indulgently as the girls giggled.

"You're incorrigible," I sighed.

"Why, thank you," replied George brightly.

"That wasn't a compliment."

"I know."

A chorus of "Weasley Is Our King" provided a rather unpleasant end to our conversation as both teams marched out onto the pitch. Fred's eyes narrowed and George's hand was drifting toward his pocket where he had stashed his wand. I caught hold of his wrist. He looked at me, seemingly irritated at my intrusion.

"You won't be able to hit anyone properly from here," I said into his ear. His face settled into a grin and as I released his wrist, he caught my hand in his and squeezed it tightly before dropping it.

The entire exchange gave me a funny feeling, a quick drop in my stomach that was hard to define. It was a good feeling—maybe satisfaction that I had made him less angry? I wasn't sure.

We were flattened in the match, but that happy buoyant feeling persisted for quite a while. It was truly bizarre—even running into Viv didn't bother me. We had bumped into each other trying to get out of the stands and, not realizing who the other was, we looked at each other and said "Sorry." It was rather awkward moment, so I did the best I could: I gave a bemused sort of smile and continued on my way.

Unfortunately, Hufflepuff's victory meant that Zacharias Smith was nigh intolerable at the next D. A. meeting.

"You know, you don't even have to aim for me," said George as I practiced my Stunning Spells, which were still fairly shoddy. "You could try and hit Smith. That would give you the proper motivation."

"Oh, really?" I replied, arching an eyebrow at him.

"Well, I'm just too charming to Stun," explained George. "And I'm already stunning, so it's redundant."

"Oh, I see," I laughed. "So what I need is a partner who is less charming and funny, and preferably a git?"

"Exactly," said George. "I reckon your spells would be excellent if you were working with Smith or Malfoy."

"Well, George, it's a good thing I've got you to explain my psychology," I replied.

"It's a pity I'm such an excellent bloke," sighed George sadly.

"It's a pity you're not working," said Harry as he walked up to us.

"We're just sorting out the reason why her Stunning's so poor," explained George. "In my professional opinion, it's her motivation that's shoddy."

Harry raised his eyebrows.

"He thinks I ought to practice on Zacharias Smith," I said.

"Or Malfoy," added George.

Harry grinned. "At this point, I wouldn't discourage it."

"If Harry says you should do it, you ought to," said George sagely.

"Oh, go on," I laughed.

"Actually, I'd like to see how your Stunning's coming along," said Harry.

Unfortunately, my Stunning was not coming along very well at all, and I was forced to endure another lecture on technique from Harry and more "helpful" tips from George.

* * *

That issue of _The Quibbler _marked the beginning of a period of great change. However, we were all blissfully unaware of the role that the interview would have in the near future. I had never even heard of _The Quibbler_ until George shoved the magazine into my book bag after breakfast that day.

"What is this?" I asked as we made our way out of the castle to Herbology.

"You've got to read it," he replied with the sort of grin he wore whenever he had caused a particularly excellent piece of trouble. I arched an eyebrow at him. "You'll like it, I promise."

"Is it about the joke shop?"

"No." The grin was still there.

"Joke products?"

"Not even close."

"Quidditch?"

"Nope."

"Umbridge getting sacked?"

"Better."

I looked at him incredulously.

"What could possibly be better than Umbridge getting sacked?" I asked.

"You'll see," he replied with that infuriating grin.

"You're impossible, George Weasley."

"Impossible, but charming. Funny…"

"Oh, not this again."

"Devilishly handsome, clever…"

"You can stop now."

"Creative, well liked, noble…"

"A troublemaker…"

"But you love me." He slung an arm around my shoulder as we walked into the greenhouse. The infuriating grin was still there.

"I suppose so."

"Oh, come off it, I know you do," he replied.

"What makes you say that?"

"You carry a picture of me everywhere."

"I do not!"

"No, but I thought I'd try, just in case."

"'Just in case?'" I repeated.

He shrugged. "You never know."

"Mr. Weasley, Miss Fletcher, that's enough talk," declared Professor Sprout as she called the class to attention. Alicia gave me a strange look; I shrugged and turned to the front to listen to Professor Sprout.

I was not able to read the article until after Herbology as we were going to Charms. And George was right—it was better than Umbrige being sacked. Harry Potter had done an interview in _The Quibbler_ about the night he saw You-Know-Who come back. When I finished reading, I let out a triumphant squeak and launched myself at George.

"Thank you!" I exclaimed, hugging him tightly.

"What for?" he laughed, patting me on the back somewhat awkwardly.

"This is the best news I've had all week," I explained, beaming. "You've just made my day." I impulsively pecked him on the cheek before releasing him. It was odd—I'd never done anything like that before and it gave me an odd feeling. At the time, I attributed it to the article and nothing more.

"_What_ has got into you?" asked Alicia.

"This! Read this!" I replied, stuffing the magazine into her hands. She opened it and Lee read over her shoulder.

"Hey, I gave George the magazine, why don't I get a kiss?" protested Fred. I rolled my eyes and pecked him on the cheek as well.

"I didn't realize I was in such high demand," I said.

"Well, I wanted you to feel kindly toward me after the problem with your sister…"

"_What_? What problem with my sister?!"

"Oh, you didn't know?" asked Fred.

"It's fairly obvious," stated George. "I can't believe you missed it."

"_What_?"

"Don't worry, it's nothing major," replied Fred in what he thought must have been a reassuring voice.

"Or permanent…we think," added George.

"You _think_? _What did you do_?"

"We turned her hair blue," said Fred.

Although it wasn't the worst thing that could have happened, I spent the next several minutes telling them both off.

However, my high from reading the article was not that easily quashed. Even the latest educational decree (which threatened students in possession of _The Quibbler_ with expulsion) could not depress me. Alicia quickly disguised the copy I had passed on to her as a spare piece of parchment and other students did similar things with their copies. The decree had very little effect overall, as it seemed that almost everyone had read the interview. I went through the rest of my day with a spring in my step and a smile on my face. Professor Umbridge even asked me if I was feeling well. I gave her a big smile and told her I was feeling fantastic. In a rare display of concern for her students, she sent me to the hospital wing. George reckoned I overdid it with the smiling. Madam Pomfrey said she had never had a student sent the infirmary for a good mood, but she gave me a Calming Draught and let me stay in the hospital wing for the rest of the period. As it was Umbridge's class, I didn't mind quite so much, especially because she was in a bad mood because the interview.

However, I was quite unprepared for Angelina's reaction.

"I made her read it," she whispered as we departed from dinner. I didn't have to ask who she was talking about. "I don't know what kind of impression I made on her, or if I made one at all, but she's read it."

"Angelina, I don't want you to—"

"I know, I know," she interrupted. "But it's the least I can do after the Hogsmeade visit, yeah?"

That evening, there was a party for Harry in the common room. Fred and George had enlarged the cover of the latest issue of _The Quibbler_ and had bewitched it to repeat anti-Umbridge and anti-Ministry sentiments. Usually when there were parties on school nights, I opted out of them because I had work to do. However, I was in such a good mood that I decided to forgo schoolwork for the evening, although I would probably regret it later. And, as George cheerfully informed me, I was not going to have a choice in the matter either way.

"What's with you?" asked Alicia while we were watching Fred, George, and Lee selling various joke products to an eager crowd.

"What do you mean?" I replied.

"You're awfully happy today," she stated. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you'd had one too many firewhiskys."

"Well, I'm in a good mood," I explained. "Why? Am I usually depressing?"

"No, not at all," said Alicia. "You're just a little more reserved or something. More serious."

I shrugged. "I'm in a good mood, that's all."

She gave me a slightly amused sort of glance.

"Well, if you say so," she replied.

"What? What do you mean by that?" I asked.

"Nothing."

"Oh, don't you, 'nothing' me," I replied. "That look meant _something_."

Alicia rolled her eyes. "You read too much into things. If you—Merlin's beard, I don't believe it."

"Don't try to change the subject," I warned her.

"No really," she insisted, pointing at the gathering of people near the fireplace. "Viv's here."

She was right—there was Viv having an animated discussion with my sister, who did indeed have blue hair.

And although I was still confused by Alicia and her cryptic glances, I found the puzzle of Viv's presence more interesting. I could even dare hope that she had changed her mind because of that article, but it was the only explanation I could think of.

* * *

Unfortunately, Umbridge continued to try and bring the school down around us. A few weeks after the interview in _The Quibbler_ was published, Trelawney was finally sacked. It was one of the saddest things I had ever witnessed—the poor woman sobbing hysterically as Umbridge sneered cruelly above her. But as always, Dumbledore came in to save the day. His presence was a relief—he had been conspicuously absent from the staff table at meals. With the way things had been going, it was nice to finally see him and it was even better to hear him tell Umbridge that the ability to remove teachers from the castle still rested with him. And before Umbridge could appoint someone horrid, Dumbledore announced that he had found a centaur called Firenze to take on Trelawney's Divination classes. The look on her face was excellent—barely restrained rage combined with the agony of defeat and the aftereffects of public humiliation.

The D. A. continued, which was great because I doubt I could tolerate Umbridge otherwise. It became especially exciting because we started work on the Patronus Charm, as Harry had promised. The most difficult part for me was finding the memory—many of mine proved to be too weak to produce more than silver vapor. After a lot of trial and error, I decided to try that day at the Quidditch pitch when I had got that funny feeling in my stomach, around the time Viv and I had accidentally said we were sorry. And the strangest thing was that it worked. I wasn't sure that it was the happiest I had ever been, but that sensation had to be something like happiness. However, I was slightly disappointed with the end result.

My Patronus was a mouse. It was cute, I suppose, but still…it was a mouse. It did not inspire much confidence.

"Well…that's slightly pathetic," I said as it scurried in circles around my ankles.

"It's certainly industrious," said George as his own Patronus (a monkey) sat and watched my mouse.

"I just hope it does me some good against enemies," I replied.

"With any luck, you won't have to meet any," said George.

I smiled. "Yeah…let's hope so."

"Ooh! Look! Did you see that?" asked Alicia. "I had _something_. I couldn't quite tell what it was…maybe a bird of some sort?"

"This is giving me a headache," sighed Angelina. "Honestly—"

She trailed off and looked at the door, which had just opened. A house-elf with multiple hats stacked on his head ran quickly past our ankles and made a beeline for Harry.

"Hi, Dobby! What are you—what's wrong?"

"Harry Potter, sir…Harry Potter, sir…Dobby has come to warn you…but the house-elves have been warned not to tell…"

My stomach dropped slightly as the house-elf flung himself at the wall, some of his many hats tumbling off his head. The room was deathly silent.

"What's happened, Dobby?" Harry had gotten a hold of the elf so it could no longer throw himself it the wall.

"Harry Potter…she…she…" Dobby tried to punch himself in the nose but Harry grabbed hold of his tiny arm.

"Who's 'she', Dobby?" There was silence. "Umbridge?"

Dobby nodded and I felt as though I would be sick.

"What about her? Dobby—she hasn't found out about this—about us—about the D. A.?" Another pause as Harry looked quietly at the elf. "Is she coming?"

"Yes, Harry Potter, yes!" wailed Dobby, looking thoroughly miserable. Harry stood up and looked at us.

"WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?"

We didn't need to be told twice. Everyone bolted for the door, causing a minor holdup as we all tried to get out at once.

"This way," hissed George once we finally got out, grabbing hold of my wrist and turning left. Fred and Angelina were ahead of us—I wasn't sure where Alicia and Lee had gone. We tore through a tapestry, into a dark and narrow tunnel, and up a set of narrow steps, on which I nearly broke my ankle.

"Does anyone else know about this?" I gasped to George.

"Just us…I hope."

The passage ended at another tapestry. Fred stuck his head out and looked around before motioning us to follow him. We ran quickly and as quietly as we could until we finally reached the doors of the Owlery. Fred hauled the heavy doors open and Angelina, George, and I scrambled inside, with Fred quick behind.

It was fairly chilly in the Owlery, as it didn't have windows and the weather was still fairly cool. The stone floor was thick with owl droppings and an occasional dead mouse. The four of us stood there panting and clutching at the stitches in our sides and chests while the many owls looked on curiously.

"What're we going to do?" asked Angelina after a while.

"Wait," said Fred.

"I suppose none of you have got a letter by any chance?" I asked. "If anyone comes in here, we've got an excuse."

The three of them shook their heads.

"We can say we've just sent it," suggested Angelina.

"That'll have to be good enough," said Fred.

"Who d'you reckon told?" asked George.

"Dunno. Smith, maybe?" I asked.

"Seems likely, except he was in the room with us tonight," said Angelina.

"Maybe he didn't want to make anyone suspicious," I offered.

"Yeah, we're so used to his annoying presence," agreed Fred. "It wouldn't be a D. A. meeting without the whiny—"

"Shh!" hissed Angelina.

There was the sound of footsteps outside. My heart sped up and my stomach dropped.

"Oy, Crabbe, check the Owlery! There might be a few in there."

"Disillusionment Charm," said George quickly.

I pulled my wand from the pocket of my robes. I was slightly nervous, as we had only just started using Disillusionment Charms on humans in class. I tapped myself on the forehead and felt a cool sensation that spread from my forehead and all the way down to my feet. The others were quickly disappearing around me. I examined my hand. The Charm appeared to have worked, although I was thankful for the poor lighting, which would hopefully disguise any shoddy Charm work.

I pressed myself against the wall and tried to calm my racing heart. Someone bumped into me—I assumed it was George, as he was nearest before he Disillusioned himself. I felt hands on my shoulders as the he steadied himself and moved to my right. I could feel a hand next to mine as I pressed my hands flat against the wall.

"It's all right," said George's voice quietly. I felt a little better. The door creaked open and I impulsively grabbed the hand next to mine. It squeezed back reassuringly and I felt a small semblance of relief.

The boy called Crabbe stuck his head in the room and squinted around in the semi-darkness with his beady eyes. I held my breath and prayed that he could not my heart beating frantically over the quiet rustling of wings.

He walked into the room, squinting a little more closely at the corners and the areas cloaked heaviest in darkness. He passed by us, mere meters from where we were hiding pressed against the walls. My heart continued to beat a persistent tattoo in my chest.

After what seemed like an eternity, he turned and left the room, shutting the door behind him. As soon as his footsteps faded completely, I let out a whoosh of air and let my grip on the hand go slack.

"I thought we were done for," I heard Angelina's voice say quietly.

"He's too thick to look properly," Fred said, also quietly.

"D'you think it's safe to undo the Charm?" I asked

"They've already searched, haven't they?" Fred was slowly reappearing on my left. I took my wand and carefully tapped myself on the forehead. A warm sensation told me that the Charm had lifted. Angelina and George were now visible.

"Is it safe to go back?" asked Angelina.

"I think we ought to wait," said Fred, glancing at his watch. "We can be out a little later anyway."

I suddenly felt the aftereffects of our close brush with trouble. My legs got very rubbery and my head spun unpleasantly.

"Sophie, are you ill?" asked Angelina, squinting at me. "You don't look very well."

"I'm just slightly dizzy," I explained. "I should probably sit down."

"Not on this floor, you don't," advised Fred, wrinkling his nose at the dropping-strewn floor.

"Here, hang on to me for a while," offered George, hooking an arm around my waist so he was supporting some of my weight. "Get your arm up by my shoulder so you won't fall."

"Thanks," I replied, putting an arm around his shoulder.

The others talked quietly for the next fifteen minutes, but I mostly remained silent, feeling rather exhausted. I listened to their whispered conversation, leaning my head sleepily against George's shoulder.

"It's been a while," said Fred eventually.

"We may as well go up," said Angelina. "They would have caught everyone by now…besides, I'd rather not spend the night here."

"Why not?" asked Fred. "It has a quaint sort of charm."

"If by 'quaint' you mean 'covered in droppings', then I suppose it does," said Angelina.

"How do you feel?" asked George. I took my head off his shoulder. My knees felt less wobbly.

"Better," I replied. "Thanks, George."

An unreadable expression flickered across his face before his arm dropped from my waist.

"You're welcome."

"All right," said Fred opening the door, "try to look normal…"

"That'll be hard for you," joked George.

"Shut it."

The light of the corridors hurt my eyes after the dark of the Owlery. We made our way back into the oddly quiet corridors, walking more quietly and carefully than normal. We nearly made it to our dormitory without meeting anyone.

"Well, well."

A large hulk of a Slytherin had stepped out from behind a suit of armor. I knew he was the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, but other than that, I knew little about him. He was called by his surname—Montague. I didn't even know his first name. He stood in front of us, blocking our path. "What are you doing out?"

"We're coming from the Owlery," said Angelina levelly. "Sophie and I had to send a letter."

"So why did they come with you?" asked Montague, glaring at Fred and George suspiciously.

"We're their escorts," said George, putting a protective hand on my shoulder.

"Clearly we came along for a good reason," added Fred.

"The Owlery, that's close to the Room of Requirement, isn't it?" asked Montague.

"The what?" asked Angelina without missing a beat.

"The Room of Requirement. Surely you know what that is, Johnson?"

"Actually, I don't," replied Angelina, looking bored and irritated. "Now if you wouldn't mind moving—"

"I think I would," said Montague, sneering. "I think—"

But before Montague could say anything else, someone shouted "_Stupefy_!", a jet of red light hit him in the back, and he fell over with a confused expression on his face. Alicia was standing at the other end of the corridor, her wand pointed at Montague. Lee stuck his head out from around a corner.

"Hurry!"

We ran the length of the corridor and didn't stop until we were safely inside the Gryffindor common room.

"Where've you been?" asked Lee once he'd regained his breath.

"Owlery," replied Fred. "Where were you?"

"Alicia and I hid behind the sculpture of Leonidas the Large," Lee informed us. "We waited for the noise to quiet down and then we ran. We just started snogging if we heard someone coming and they thought they'd walked in on us."

"Thanks, Lee," said Alicia, looking rather embarrassed.

"What? It was one of the better ideas I've had!"

"I guess this means the end of the D. A.," said Angelina, looking sad.

However, we were not yet aware of how much worse things were going to get.

* * *

**A/N:** The dialogue from "Hi Dobby!...WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?" was written by J.K. Rowling and can be found in _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_. I did not use Ms. Rowling's narrative in that selection of dialogue; the narrative bits that appear in that selection were written by me. 

I've got the rough draft for Chapter 10 written and I'm kind of excited about it…it should be up in a week. As for this chapter...I'm not sure how I feel about it (this could be because it's 3 a.m. and I'm losing capability of coherent thought). Anyway, let me know what you think (good, bad, whatever).


	10. Analysis

**Disclaimer: **Sadly, it's not mine. If it was, I too would have a castle in Scotland, or wherever JKR lives.

**Author's Note:** Whoa. It's been a while. The short story is that school and health things got in the way. Also, this chapter has been very difficult to write—it's gone through at least four complete revisions. It seems a little on the short side to me, but there shouldn't be much of a wait for the next chapter, as it's almost ready to be posted. I'm so sorry for the delay and I really appreciate your patience. As always, thanks for the lovely feedback—it always makes my day.

_Chapter 10: Analysis_

Never ask yourself how much worse a situation can get. For one thing, it's a fairly negative thought and there is something to be said for having a positive attitude. For another, you're practically encouraging fate to continue to behave in an unpleasant manner. However, after the disastrous D. A. meeting the night before, I didn't think it was actually possible for things to continue on their downward course.

The message was on the notice board the very next day:

"_Dolores Jane Umbridge (High Inquisitor) has replaced Albus Dumbledore as Head of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_."

The fact that the woman managed to spoil my appetite without even entering the room is a poor mark on her character.

"_WHAT_?!" bellowed Angelina when she read the announcement, causing a group of second years to jump in fright.

"Ah, there's our delicate English rose now," sang Fred cheerily as he came down the stairs with George and Lee in tow.

"Shut up and read the board," she snapped, pointing at the notice board so suddenly and violently that she nearly took out Alicia's eye in the process.

"What's it now, 'laughing is not to be tolerated'?" asked Fred lightly, as though Umbridge were simply a bossy child on the playground who we could ignore without consequence.

"Green knickers must be worn on Tuesdays," suggested George.

"That was the last Educational Decree," said Lee.

"Just read it," stated Angelina, almost wearily.

"It can't be that b—_WHAT?!_"

The same second years jumped again.

"This is bad," declared George. Lee was speechless for once in his life.

"Why…why would he do this?" asked Alicia.

"He wouldn't have had a choice," said Fred stonily. "Otherwise he wouldn't have left us with _her_."

"But _why_?" asked Alicia.

Fred exchanged a look with George and shrugged somberly.

Although none of us had an immediate answer, Hogwarts was well suited to the spread of gossip, and we heard all sorts of theories at breakfast. I didn't know which version of events to believe, as they all seemed rather far-fetched. They did, however, share a common theme: Fudge tried to arrest Dumbledore, but before he could so much as present the warrant, Dumbledore single-handedly overpowered Fudge and fled the school.

Unfortunately, our new Headmistress was not the only regime change within Hogwarts. A new group called the Inquisitorial Squad now skulked through the corridors. Founded by Umbridge, the group was mostly made up of the Slytherins who had taken part in breaking up the D. A. the evening before. They were basically prefects with special privileges and questionable objectivity. There was already significant evidence of power abuse—the point tally for the three other houses was falling fast. Montague had immediately tried to exact his revenge on Fred and George, although he seemed rather fuzzy on what had actually happened in the corridor the previous evening. Before he could go through with whatever he had planned, Fred and George managed to force him into a Vanishing Cabinet.

And although I'm certain that it was both dangerous and in violation of several school rules, I didn't really mind so much. If student revenge was going to be supported by the new administration, it seemed only fair that we got to fight back. Either way, it was one less Inquisitorial Squad member to worry about for the time being.

News of the D. A.'s betrayer made its way around the castle well before lunch. A sixth year Ravenclaw girl called Marietta Edgecombe was spotted in the hospital wing boasting a particularly unfortunate skin condition (there were several rumors as to what the spots on her face actually spelled out—it ranged from 'SNEAK' to words of the four letter variety). The jinx that caused the condition was the brainchild of Hermione, who everyone thought was quite clever (with the exception of several humorless Ravenclaws). I tried to feel sorry for Marietta, but the fact that I had spent a good amount of time hiding terrified in the Owlery made it very difficult.

Although Umbridge now had the D. A.'s roster, Minister Fudge seemed to think we were all bewitched by Dumbledore. Before he fled, Dumbledore apparently took responsibility for the creation of the D. A., which saved Harry Potter from expulsion, I'm sure. Fudge declared that a punishment was not necessary, as we could hardly defend ourselves against a wizard such as Dumbledore.

This did not stop Umbridge from questioning us.

When Angelina, Alicia, Fred, George, Lee, and I arrived at Transfiguration that morning, Professor McGonagall tersely informed us that Professor Umbridge wished to see us in her office.

"And please," she said, lowering her voice, "mind your manners. Things have…changed."

We were all uncharacteristically silent as we walked through the corridors to Umbridge's office. Despite the fact that I didn't want to give her any more power over me, I couldn't help but feel nervous.

"This is going to be _lovely_," grumbled Angelina just before Fred raised his hand to knock on Umbridge's door. After a moment or so, the door opened and Umbridge herself appeared on the other side, smiling sweetly.

"Good morning, children," she said in a tone that felt sweetly poisonous. "I would like to have a private word with each of you. Why don't we begin with Mr. Jordan?"

Lee looked vaguely horrified as he made his way into her office. Umbridge appeared not to notice.

"If the rest of you would wait out here," she said as she closed the door behind her.

"We could take her if she becomes unreasonable," stated Fred quietly.

"Easily," agreed George.

"She probably wants to warn us," said Alicia. "Fudge said not to punish us—I can't imagine her going along with it without having her say."

"Just as long as the Stylograph's not involved," I sighed. "Otherwise I may be tempted to stick it up her—"

"Sophie!" exclaimed Fred in mock shock.

"I was going to say 'nose,'" I informed him wryly.

"Sure you were," teased George.

"Well, I suppose any orifice would be acceptable, really…" I mused.

After a few more minutes, the door opened and Lee exited the room, looking resolutely at the floor beneath him. Umbridge waited until he had disappeared round the corner before she summoned Alicia, most likely so that Lee wouldn't tell us what we should expect. Fred was after Alicia, then Angelina, and then George. Finally, Umbridge's door opened once more and George exited. He winked at me and strode casually down the corridor. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to feel reassured or not.

"Miss Fletcher," said Umbridge once George had disappeared round the corner. "Come in."

I reluctantly walked into her office and she followed, shutting the door behind her.

"Have a seat," she said, gesturing to a pink armchair in front of her desk. I sat down and noticed the chair smelled unpleasantly of spoiled perfume.

"Now," she began, folding her short bejeweled fingers together, "Miss Fletcher, I understand that you were a part of the organization known as Dumbledore's Army."

I paused and briefly considered the wisdom of revealing this to her. Fudge said we were not to be punished, but was that enough for Umbridge? The consequences of the jinx seemed particularly unpleasant as well.

"We've had the jinx removed from the roster," added Umbridge when I did not immediately speak up, her face twisted into a caricature of gentleness.

I cleared my throat and took a deep breath. "I was."

"As you may know," continued Umbridge, "full pardons have been issued to the students involved, as the Minister believes that you were led astray by Albus Dumbledore." Her look hardened slightly. "However, should I learn otherwise, the repercussions would be most severe. Do I make myself clear?"

My hands began shaking involuntarily. I clutched them tightly in my lap.

"Yes, Professor," I said as levelly as I could manage.

"However," she said, softening back into that sickly sweet smile, "I want you to feel safe coming to me about any information that you may have as a result of your involvement in this…organization. Your help may aid us in apprehending Albus Dumbledore and putting him in Azkaban where he belongs."

She said this last part particularly cheerfully and I stiffened.

"He belongs at Hogwarts," I said before I could stop myself.

"I'm afraid you have been terribly misled," she said what she must have thought was a consoling manner. "Albus Dumbledore has _lied_ to you. He has tricked you into believing he is a great man, when in reality, he is treacherous and wicked. 'Dumbledore's Army' was a lie perpetuated on the weak-minded."

I focused on my clasped hand and willed myself to remain silent.

"Miss Fletcher, if you have any information as to his whereabouts, I would encourage you to tell me," she continued, mistaking my silence for acceptance of her twisted truth. "The Minister would be very much indebted to you—why, I imagine you would receive some sort of award!"

"I don't know where Professor Dumbledore is," I said, my voice quavering slightly. Umbridge's face fell a little, but she quickly regained her composure.

"Well, if you change your mind, please come speak with me," she said, as though she hadn't heard what I had just said. "You are excused."

I got up from the chair and exited her office as quickly as I could manage without seeming suspicious. I glanced at my watch as I headed down the corridor. I had wasted nearly half an hour for nothing. I decided that if I failed my Transfiguration N. E. W. T., Umbridge would get a fair share of the blame.

I turned the corner and nearly walked into George.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, surprised.

"Waiting for you," he replied, falling into step beside me.

"Didn't she tell you not to?"

"Of course," he replied. "She gave me explicit instructions to go right back to class."

"George!" I exclaimed.

"What?" he asked, with a very contrived air of innocence.

"You heard what McGonagall said," I scolded.

He shrugged. "So?"

"So? So things have changed!" I stated, throwing my hands up in the air. "You can't just _ignore_ her. It's dangerous."

"Umbridge isn't that keen on you. I wanted to make sure you made it out all right," he explained casually.

"You're a damn fool, George Weasley," I sighed, softening slightly. "And if you ever do something this stupid again I will hex you into next week. But thanks."

"'S nothing," he shrugged, brushing off my comment with a smile. "How was it?"

"Oh, you know, 'Dumbledore's a liar, you ought to trust me', 'If you know where Dumbledore's gone…' Honestly. As though he tells me these things."

"Maybe they want to send him a postcard," suggested George. "'Dear Albus: We regret to inform you that we've got a warrant out for your arrest. Hope you're enjoying your holiday—Dolores sends her love. Best wishes, Cornelius Fudge."

I laughed and I got that strange, buoyant sensation somewhere in the pit of my stomach. I decided to think about it later, as I had quite enough to think about as it was.

"Thanks, George," I said after a moment.

"For what?" he asked, looking slightly confused.

"For making me laugh."

"I thought I was a damn fool?" he asked cheekily.

"Well, that can't be helped, I suppose," I said. "But this morning has been awful…I…er…I needed to laugh."

He grinned. "Oh, just you wait."

*

George did not elaborate any further on his cryptic statement, but I got the sense that whatever he had planned would be fairly spectacular.

As it turned out, 'spectacular' barely did it justice.

It was the perfect combination of mayhem and fireworks. I had never seen anything like them. They were beautiful and the best part was that there didn't seem to be an easy way to be rid of them, which made for several entertaining interruptions in many of my classes. The best was History of Magic—a giant Catherine wheel had to go _through_ Professor Binns before he noticed that something was amiss. Lee declared it the best History of Magic lesson ever.

There was a party in progress when I finally got to the common room that evening. Of course, the twins were at the center of it all, flooded by a sea of well-wishers and customers alike.

"I don't believe it," laughed Angelina, handing me a butterbeer as I sank down into a chair.

"It almost makes up for everything that happened today," I sighed, taking a deep drink.

"Did you know anything about it?" Alicia asked Lee.

Lee shook his head. "No, but I could tell something was going to happen. Fred's voice goes slightly up in pitch when he's planning something big."

"Seriously?" asked Alicia, looking somewhat amused.

"You haven't noticed?" said Lee disbelievingly. "He sounded like Flitwick the day we put the Stinksap in Filch's file cabinets."

"It did _not_," protested the twin in question as he joined our group.

"Only a little," added George, as he collapsed in the chair across from me. He nudged my shin with his foot. "Told you it'd be good."

"That's an understatement," I replied with a grin. "Very well done, gentlemen."

"It was excellent," agreed Lee. "It was worth the three octaves."

"Oh, you ought to have seen her _face_!" exclaimed Alicia happily as Fred delivered a punch to Lee's shoulder. "Filch, too. It was magnificent."

"What did you use?" asked Angelina, taking the clipboard from Fred.

"Weasleys' Wildfire Whizbangs," replied Fred promptly as George began rattling off a list of products and prices.

"I expect you'll want us to buy some," stated Angelina, raising an eyebrow at the duo.

"Naturally," agreed Fred.

"We've used up all our stock," stated George in a low voice, "but we could move you up in queue if you keep it quiet."

"And we'll give you a discount if you promise they'll be used on our new Headmistress," added Fred in the same voice.

It was definitely against my better judgment, but I allowed myself to be talked into buying not only a Blaze Box, but several other novelty products that Fred and George insisted were absolutely necessary for the sake of the greater good.

*

I was quite thankful for the timely arrival of the Easter holidays. For one thing, it meant that I was not required to spend any time with Umbridge. Despite the incident with the fireworks earlier in the week, she had developed the most intolerable sort of smugness with her new position. I was only comforted by the fact that Dumbledore's office had apparently sealed itself against her, so she was unable to relocate herself and her awful kittens. I was quite glad to be free of her presence for a week.

Unfortunately, there was still the issue of exams, which were six weeks away. More stressful was the fact that I still didn't know what I wanted to do after I finished school. Everyone else seemed to have definitive plans. Alicia was going to be working for a Muggle relations organization in London that specialized in counseling for Muggles who were particularly reluctant to accept their Wizarding relations. Angelina was going to try for a professional Quidditch career. Fred and George had the joke shop, of course and Lee was going to be involved in that, although mainly in an advertising respect.

I was the only one who had no prospects and no idea what I was doing.

"All right," I declared on the first evening of holiday. We were all lazing around on our usual set of couches. I had a notepad in my lap and a quill balanced between my fingers "I've got to decide on a career. Any suggestions?"

"I told you—come work for us," said George.

"And I told _you_: not unless I haven't got any other options," I replied. "And I mean _no_ other options."

"We'd give you paid holiday," tempted Fred.

"_And_ a discount," added George.

"I'd like a _legitimate_ career, thanks."

"It is legitimate!" protested Fred. I arched an eyebrow at him. "Untraditional, but legitimate," he conceded.

"I suppose the fact that we've chosen it as our career path is a mark against it," mused George.

"You should make a list," advised Alicia from where she was snugly ensconced against Lee. "That's what I did."

"You were also sending out your résumé in January," said Angelina.

"So? Loads of people were."

"No one else sent theirs to forty-seven separate companies and organizations," Angelina pointed out.

Alicia shrugged. "Well, I got a job, didn't I?"

"Oh, don't rub it in," I moaned, burying my face in my hands.

"Sorry," said Alicia.

"Oh, don't worry, Sophie," Angelina reassured me. "I haven't done anything about a job yet."

"But you know what you want to do," I replied weakly.

"Well…yes," admitted Angelina. "But I'm sure you'll have an idea sometime soon," she added hastily.

The conversation strayed to other topics from there. It seemed as though George was the only one who had the patience to listen to my ongoing dilemma.

"You know, you _can_ work for us," he repeated. "If you can't decide on anything right away and you need some money to get on your feet."

"You're sweet, George, but I've got to make my own way," I sighed. "I can't rely on charity from friends."

"I know, love," he replied, patting me on the shoulder. "But that's what we're here for, honestly."

"Oh, go on."

"I'm serious!" he replied. "Do you think we'd just sit and watch if you got into trouble?"

"I just think I ought to be able to get myself out of my own trouble, you know?" I said.

"Yes…but what I don't understand is why you're so upset about all this."

"It's frustrating," I replied. "I can't work at the bookshop stocking shelves for the rest of my life, but I haven't got any better ideas."

"There are loads of things you can do."

"Like what?"

"You could be a librarian," he suggested.

I shrugged. "I've thought about it…but I'd hate to turn out like Madam Pince."

"You're not nearly cross enough," he assured me. "You're a good writer as well. You could do something with that."

"I'm a _fair_ writer," I shrugged. "There are others who are much better than me."

"Well, if you're going to be _negative_…"

"I'm sorry…" I sighed heavily. "I'm just…I'm frustrated."

"You'll be all right," he said reassuringly.

I gave a slight half-smile. "Thanks, George."

"Oy," said Fred, kicking his brother on the shin, "kitchen raid?"

"Absolutely," said George.

"_How_ can you be hungry?" demanded Alicia, poking Lee in the ribs. "You ate an entire steak and kidney pie not an hour ago!"

"Exactly," said Lee. "It was a light meal."

"I give up," declared Alicia with a sigh as Lee rose from the couch.

"Well, if there's ever a famine in Britain, we'll know why," said Angelina.

"All right, ladies, we're off," declared Fred dramatically. "We may not return—"

"Pity," said Angelina sarcastically.

"You're out of my will," stated Fred.

"Oh and I had my eye on your collection of trick cauldrons," sighed Angelina in mock sadness.

"Yes, well, Alicia and Sophie are getting those now."

"Wonderful," said Alicia with a slight hint of sarcasm.

"Just what I always wanted!" I added. Fred raised an eyebrow at us both.

"Careful, or you two will be next," he warned.

Alicia smiled and rolled her eyes. "All right, we'll be nice. Go on and have your fun."

"They are so bizarre," stated Angelina, shaking her head as the boys clambered out of the portrait hole.

"That's hardly new," replied Alicia. She looked at me and smiled. "So. Are you going to tell what that was about?"

"Er…I was discussing my lack of career prospects with George," I said carefully. "What of it?"

"Oh, nothing," she replied, although her amused expression indicated that 'nothing' was not an accurate assessment of whatever she happened to be thinking.

"Oh, right," I said, arching an eyebrow, "you're just acting devious for no reason."

She shrugged. "It was just a thought."

"I have a slight idea what this 'just a thought' nonsense means," I replied. "And your thought is wrong."

She looked mildly surprised. "Oh?"

I sighed. "Really, Alicia, there were no subtle undertones to that conversation, no matter what you might think."

"Oh?"

"Of course not," I stated.

"So you were blushing for no particular reason?" asked Alicia, barely hiding a smug grin.

"Perhaps in your deluded, overly romantic head I was."

"You were," confirmed Angelina. "And you giggled as well."

"I did _not_."

"You were flirting, Sophie," said Alicia bluntly.

"Oh, _please_."

Alicia rolled her eyes. "You were. You have been for ages now."

"You're mad," I retorted.

"_I'm_ mad?" she asked, placing a hand to her chest. "I'm dating the bloke I fancy. You—"

"Don't fancy anyone," I finished for her.

"Yes, you do," argued Angelina teasingly. I sighed.

"Ask anyone," offered Alicia. "They'd agree with me."

"What do you mean 'anyone'?" I asked cautiously.

She shrugged. "People. You two are so often together that I think most people assume—"

I sighed. This was not a conversation that I wanted to be having right now. Or ever, really.

"Really, Sophie, you can tell us," said Alicia.

"I don't have anything to tell you," I said, laughing.

"Is it because he's a friend?" asked Angelina. "Is that why you're dodging it?"

"It worked out fine for me and Lee," added Alicia. "Seriously, it's not worth worrying about."

"There's nothing going on," I insisted. "I don't know how many times I have to say it."

"Psh," said Angelina dismissively.

"There's _something_ going on," said Alicia. "You just don't want to admit it."

"It's been going on for about a year now," added Angelina.

"We're friends," I insisted.

"I'm sure you've at least _thought_ about it," prodded Alicia.

"No, not really."

"But you _have_ thought about it," declared Angelina triumphantly.

"No! Look…" I cleared my throat and glanced nervously at the portrait hole. The last thing I needed was them walking in on this conversation. "I don't really see…in my experience, if you've been friends for this long, it's not going to turn into…something else, so why bother?"

"Your experience? With Kenneth Towler?" asked Angelina skeptically.

"No, I mean just…what I've observed."

"I've been friends with Lee for quite a while, Sophie," Alicia pointed out.

"You're an exception."

"That's not a terribly strong argument," replied Alicia.

"It's not a terribly strong point. Anecdotal evidence can't disprove an entire universal rule!"

"It's not universal—you just said it was in your own experience," countered Alicia.

"Well, you know what I meant."

"Let's put it this way: if he expressed an interest, what would you say?" asked Angelina.

"He wouldn't."

Angelina sighed. "Well, let's pretend for the sake of argument that he would. What would you say?"

"I-I don't know, I'd have to think about it," I said.

"What's to think about? He's a nice bloke," said Angelina.

"It would complicate things."

"No, not really," said Alicia. "And _I'm_ speaking from actual experience, mind you."

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger.

"Look, it's obvious that we're not going to agree on this and it will be quite uncomfortable if they come back in here in the middle of this conversation, so let's just leave it alone for now."

"Fine," sighed Alicia. "But we're still right."

"You're still mad," I corrected her.

"You know that we'll insist on discussing it further later, right?" asked Angelina.

"If I didn't, I reckon I wouldn't know you very well," I replied.

As I was finishing that sentence, the portrait door swung open and the boys returned, talking loudly and laden with food. I suddenly found it very difficult to look at George, mainly because Angelina and Alicia were obviously paying very close attention.

"Is there anything _left_?" asked Alicia incredulously as Lee placed a steak and kidney pie down on the table in front of us.

"Well, they wanted us to take more," shrugged Fred, setting what looked like a small wheel of cheese on the table, "but we've only got so many arms."

"Honestly, they shouldn't encourage you," stated Alicia.

"I knew you'd say that," said Lee triumphantly, presenting her with one of the many plates he had balanced in his hands, "which is why I brought you this."

Alicia glanced at the plate with a combination of surprise and amusement.

"Blackberry pie," declared Lee proudly. "It's your favorite."

"Did you take this big bite out of the middle?" asked Alicia, arching her eyebrow at the plate.

Lee shrugged. "I got hungry."

"Never mind the mountains of other food you had with you, or the massive meal you had at dinner," said Alicia wryly, picking up her fork. "Oh, well, I suppose it's the thought. Thanks, Lee." She pecked him chastely on the cheek. Lee looked quite pleased with himself.

"Any new revelations?" asked George. I felt the color drain slightly from my cheeks. Had he heard after all?

"Sorry?"

"Your future career," he reminded me. The slight panic immediately abated.

"Oh! Right. Er, no. Angelina and Alicia weren't very helpful." Alicia smirked into her blackberry pie and Angelina looked pleased with herself.

"Eh, not to worry. You've got time yet," said George, thankfully oblivious to the ongoing subtext.

I gave Angelina and Alicia a stern look. Thanks to them, I had a whole other issue to worry about over holiday.

*

The frustrating part about Easter holiday was that it was nearly everything _but _a holiday. N. E. W. Ts were coming up in six weeks and most people ended up using it as an extended studying session. In addition to studying, most seventh years were beginning to prepare for their life after school, which was also stressful.

However, one of the most stressful parts of my holiday was the fact that I spent most of my time studying with Alicia and Angelina. And because the boys were not quite as academically motivated, it was often just the three of us, which resulted in the inevitable discussion.

Part of the problem was that I wasn't terribly comfortable discussing such things. I suppose I thought it was very personal—so personal that I didn't even bother to think about it that often. In third year, when it became trendy for the girls to fancy boys, my own interests were kept a closely guarded secret. Not even Viv knew, despite her pleadings and vows of absolute secrecy. I confessed well after the fact (namely, until the boy in question had finished his studies at Hogwarts and I had lost interest), at which point I was quite glad I had kept it to myself—both Angelina and Alicia had a very difficult time understanding what I saw in Oliver Wood (read: they laughed a lot).

It also made me uncomfortable because it wasn't just anyone—it was George. The fact that we had been friends all this time told me that it was fairly impossible for anything to develop and because of that, I didn't give it much thought. There wasn't much use getting your hopes up. But Angelina and Alicia's prodding forced me to at least think about it.

This was also not particularly comfortable.

It was uncomfortable to admit to myself that I wasn't exactly opposed to the idea. George wasn't equivalent to odd Herbert Byron or anything like that. But it was difficult to view our relationship as anything other than a friendship—qualities I liked about him were easily explained by the fact that we were friends.

It was uncomfortable to notice that the stupid leaping, buoyant sensation in my stomach seemed to be directly correlated to George's presence. I wasn't certain if it was indicative of my feelings or if it was merely a result of nerves brought on by the discussion in the first place.

It was uncomfortable to notice and analyze such things—did I always laugh quite like that? Was I blushing more than usual? Did I seem nervous? And why?

It was uncomfortable to pick every interaction apart looking for clues.

It was uncomfortable to know that even if I did reach some sort of conclusion, I would probably be too afraid to act on it.

However, it was most uncomfortable to think that all my analysis and uncertainty about how _I_ felt might be a complete waste of time if there wasn't interest on the other end of things.

This, of course, reminded me why I tried to avoid thinking about these sorts of things in the first place.


	11. Breathless

**Disclaimer: **Still belongs to the lovely, the talented J. K. Rowling.

**Author's Note:** Okay. This chapter was extremely challenging to write. It started out one way, went through four or five revisions, and then a few days ago I decided to scrap most of the original and go with this instead. Let me know what you think.

And as always, thanks so much for the feedback and special thanks to those of you who were so patient and understanding about the huge gap between updates.

_Chapter 11: Breathless_

I was unusually happy when the last day of Easter holiday came round. I shouldn't have been—I had not studied as much as I would have liked and I was barely current with my homework. I wasn't entirely certain if it would even be possible to manage with both homework and N. E. W. T. preparation in the coming weeks. However, the resume of classes meant that Angelina and Alicia would not be able to constantly harass me with talk of my so-called "hidden feelings." In addition to homework and N. E. W. Ts, they would also have Quidditch to occupy them. They would scarcely have time for themselves, let alone time to waste on silly theories about _my_ life.

Despite the fact that I didn't really want to revisit the issue with Angelina and Alicia, I didn't want to avoid it completely—I wanted to talk to someone, just to confirm the inanity of the idea. Of course the only person who I _could_ discuss it with was not speaking to me.

It might seem stupid for me to even want to speak with Viv after our encounter in Hogsmeade. Make no mistake; I was still hurt and angry about what she had said to me. I still thought she was wrong. But even though I was still quite angry with her, I couldn't deny that her absence had left a very noticeable hole in my life. She had been my best friend for years and that was not a fact that was easily erased by any argument. I also suspected she would know precisely how to manage this situation and that made the silence harder. Trying to imagine what her response wasn't terribly effective, as it was often easier for me to take her advice than my own.

Although I was feeling the weight of her absence more heavily, I wasn't about to approach her to try and reconcile. I was wary of beginning a conversation that wasn't entirely on her terms, especially after our last encounter. And even if I had wanted to approach her, she had made herself difficult to find outside the classroom as of late. Apart from the party celebrating the _Quibbler_ article, I had scarcely seen her in Gryffindor Tower, with the exception of very early in the morning or very late in the evening.

A week ago, my life had been (relatively) normal. Then the Easter holiday came and it exploded into something very messy and overdramatic. I could think of only one way to deal with this problem and that was to ignore it for the time being.

I declared the last day of Easter holiday an all-day study session and I took over one of the tables in the common room with my books and notes. While it was a rather dull and mentally exhausting way to spend the day, it was a distraction. I didn't have the time or space to think about the problem with Viv or Alicia and Angelina's constant insinuations.

In fact, when the hour grew late and the common room began to empty out, I found myself reluctant to leave my table and go up to bed. An empty, idle mind waiting for sleep was a prime target for the thoughts I had been dodging all day. So I opted to stay up and carry on with my Potions notes.

Some time later, the sound of the portrait door creaking open broke my concentration. It was quite late—much later than the allowed curfew and I looked up to see who was out at such an hour. I was not terribly surprised.

"Are you _still_ studying?" asked Fred, wrinkling his nose in mild disgust.

"Yes." I looked at the clock. "Shall I ask why you were out at this hour, or is it one of those things where it's best that I not know?"

"That would just spoil the fun," said George, sitting down in an unoccupied chair. My stupid stomach did its stupid cryptic flip.

"You know you've got six weeks yet," said Fred, poking at a stack of parchment.

"It's quite a lot to remember."

"You're still on holiday," George pointed out.

"Can't sleep. This is good a distraction as any."

Neither of them looked particularly convinced.

"Well, I'm being productive," I amended.

"Psh, who needs academic productivity?" asked Fred. He yawned and looked at the clock. "I'm going to bed. Got to be well rested for tomorrow."

"Yes, I know how much you look forward to classes resuming," I replied.

"Well now that Percy's gone and left the family, _someone_ has to be the academic," he said with a grin.

"Good luck with that."

Fred climbed up the stairs to the boys' dormitory and then it was just George and I. Before, I would have thought nothing of it—now…now I felt nervous and rather awkward. I tried to focus on the notes in front of me.

"All right?"

"Yeah. Was moonstones or an infusion of wormwood that went into the Draught of Peace?" I asked, purposely avoiding his question.

"It made me sleepy," offered George.

"Sadly, that is not a distinctive property of either ingredient."

He shrugged and grinned. "I try. No, but really, are you well? You seem a bit off this week."

"It's just stress. Exams and all that," I said vaguely.

He looked as though he didn't quite believe me. I thought quickly.

"Er…well, I suppose the fact that Viv and I are still aren't speaking is…not very encouraging."

"She hasn't been particularly charming when you _have_ spoken," he reminded me.

"I know. And I'm still upset about that. But…" I thought for a moment. "I don't know. I suppose I've needed her advice lately and that makes me realize that there's still this hole that she's left. Sometimes…sometimes, I think that missing someone makes you minimize all the shit they put you through."

"Fair enough," he said with that familiar crooked grin. "What do you need her advice for?"

I looked at my hands. "Oh, you know…just the my future employment."

"I think you can work that out on your own," he said.

"I wish."

"Nah, you just have to listen to yourself for once."

I frowned. "What d'you mean?"

"Remember your detention with Umbridge?"

"Well, yeah, I still have a bit of a mark on my hand."

"I mean that day in class, when you called her a tyrant."

"What of it?"

He shrugged. "You can be bold like that more often. You have it in you."

"I don't do bold very well. I'm a pretty shoddy Gryffindor in that respect."

"That's rubbish."

"You have to admit that I'm not much like anyone else in the house."

"You're quiet, Sophie."

I raised an eyebrow. "So?"

"There's a difference between 'quiet' and 'a pretty shoddy Gryffindor.' A world of difference. A gaping abyss of—"

"All right, I can spot where you're going with this."

He grinned. "Someone had to set you right."

"Thanks. I appreciate your help. And the vote of confidence, for that matter." I gave a small smile and glanced at the clock. "It's past one. I'm going to be dead in class tomorrow and Merlin knows I don't handle coffee very well."

"Oh, go on, have one with breakfast," cajoled George as I began to pack up my books. "I could use the entertainment."

"I'm sure you'll get by." I shoved my Potions notes messily into my bag. "Besides, Gryffindor really can't afford to lose more points what with the Inquisitorial Squad running unchecked—Angelina said Pansy Parkinson took ten from her for merely existing."

George wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"Of course, then she took an additional twenty when Angelina told her it was a good thing no one took points for being ugly or else Slytherin would be in trouble."

"Excellent. She's learned well," said George proudly. I stacked up the remainder of my books and hefted them into my arms.

"All right. I'm going to bed. Don't stay up too late—I won't keep you awake in Defense Against the Dark Arts. I have enough difficulty staying awake myself."

"Duly noted," he replied with a grin.

"Goodnight."

"G'night."

Of course, once I was actually in bed, I had the most difficult time falling asleep. My conversation with George had not been unusual in any respects. It was a perfectly normal, neutral conversation. There was absolutely nothing to analyze.

But it's like when someone tells you to not think of a pink elephant—your brain sort of inadvertently responds and the next thing you know the forbidden pink elephant has danced right into your mind's eye. And the entire issue that Alicia and Angelina had brought up was far more uncomfortable than a pink elephant. It was the kind of thought that you couldn't easily forget, one that demanded attention, especially if you didn't want to think about it. The worst part was that there was no end or conclusion to be reached—it was just this unending cycle of unnecessary analysis and although it was exhausting, it was also impossible to sleep.

I finally drifted off sometime during the night, but I woke early the next morning feeling disturbed. I was fairly certain I'd had nightmares, but I couldn't remember anything about them—the uncomfortable, uneasy feeling was the only indication that I had dreamt anything at all.

None of the others were quite awake yet and I didn't feel much like talking, so I hastily dressed, gathered my books, and went down to breakfast. I was fairly early, so I had a few moments to myself, which might have been a mistake, as it would normally give me more opportunity to think. However, I was really too tired to think much at all; it looked as though it would be one of those days where I wished I had the option to sit out. I absently poked at my porridge and wondered if this mood was going to last all day.

"Didn't your mum tell you not to play with your food?" Fred sat down and took the seat across from me. George and Lee were with him.

"Eh, it's gone cold anyway," I said, pushing the bowl away. "I've been here a while."

"You look right knackered," observed Lee.

"I didn't sleep well."

"See? No good can come of studying," said Fred, helping himself to a large portion of porridge.

"Wasn't that, exactly. I had…things on my mind."

"Well, I won't keep you awake in Defense Against the Dark Arts," said George, putting on a high-pitched voice that was apparently supposed to mimic mine. He looked considerably more rested than I was.

"I sound nothing like that."

George shrugged. "I'm not very good with impressions."

"S-S-S-Sophie, you're up early," yawned Angelina, taking the empty seat beside me.

"We didn't know where you'd gone," said Alicia, sitting down next to Fred. "Pass the muffins, I'm famished."

"I didn't sleep well and I fancied an early breakfast," I said, sliding the plate over to her.

"You're certain about that coffee?" asked George. "You're rather glassy-eyed."

I yawned and shook my head. "Better not chance it."

"Her nerves are too delicate," agreed Angelina.

"Yes, I'm a fragile flower," I said, rolling my eyes.

"I don't suppose any of you lot did the homework for Charms yet?" asked Alicia.

"Ha!" laughed Fred.

"_Homework_," chuckled George dismissively.

"I didn't know we had an assignment," said Lee.

"I don't know why I bother," sighed Alicia.

"I haven't even looked at it yet," I said.

Angelina shook her head. "Me either. I've scarcely completed the work that's due today."

Alicia's shoulders slumped. "This term will kill me yet."

"Cheer up, love," said Lee, slinging an arm around her shoulders. "Have another muffin."

"We're almost through," said Angelina, reassuringly. "Besides, you've got plans after you graduate."

"Eeurgh, don't say that," I said, shuddering.

"'We're almost through' or 'plans after you graduate?'"

"Both."

Angelina sighed. "I can't win, can I?"

"Sophie, the position of Chief Guinea Pig has yet to be filled…" said Fred in what he must have thought was a tantalizing voice.

"No."

"Clerk?"

"_No_."

"We could use a bookkeeper," mused George.

"I'm terrible with numbers," I said, glancing at the clock. "All right, I'm off."

"We've got ten minutes yet," said Alicia.

I shrugged. "I'll be early. Besides," I looked at Fred and George, "I've had this conversation once before."

"It's a fantastic idea, you'll see," said Fred, raising his eyebrows.

"Right." I stood up and picked up my book bag. "See you."

"Think about it!" urged George.

"Not listening!"

I made my way down to the greenhouses and stood outside, trying my best to think of nothing. The sleep I didn't get the night before was already weighing heavily on me and I wondered if I'd be able to stay awake during class.

The answer was no, at least not in Herbology. You might think it impossible to fall asleep in a class that deals less with theory and more with hands-on experience. You would be wrong. However, nothing unpleasant managed to bite out of me and Professor Sprout didn't appear to notice, so I decided it wasn't anything to get terribly upset about. The fresh air seemed to do me some good though and I was able to remain alert even through Defense Against the Dark Arts, which was a miracle in itself.

The end of the day did not come quickly enough. As soon as the bell rang, I gathered my books and set off at a fast pace for Gryffindor Tower, taking most of the stairs two at a time. I got to my dormitory in half the time it normally took and I was asleep five minutes after hitting the bed.

It was a lovely dreamless sleep, the kind that is so heavy that you scarcely remember that you exist. When I woke, I was surprised to find that only an hour had passed. The dormitory was empty, apart from Chester, who was napping at the foot of my bed. I slipped my shoes back on, straightened my robes, and smoothed my hair. I glanced at the clock. I would be early for dinner, but it was certainly preferable to sitting alone in the darkened dormitory.

The common room was fairly empty and the corridors were relatively quiet. I took my time going down the Great Hall. I felt considerably better and my thoughts were much less jumbled. Perhaps I'd be all right after all.

I had just entered one of the third floor corridors when I heard the unmistakable sound of pounding footsteps. From the squeaking of their trainers, it sounded as though they were running rather fast. I turned the corner and saw that it was not just one person, but two sprinting down the hallway. They were redheaded and they were laughing.

Typical.

"What've you done?" I asked as they came closer.

"You'll…find out," gasped Fred with a wicked grin.

"Soon," added George.

"You've—" said Fred to his twin cryptically.

"I know."

"What've you done?" I repeated, trying to ignore the unnerving twin conversation they were presently having. They were closer now and George had slowed to a jog, presumably so he could catch his breath and explain what the bloody hell was going on.

Of course, that is not what he did. George Weasley is many things, but he is rarely predictable.

So instead of answering my question, he took my face in his hands, leaned down, and kissed me.

It was not a 'let's be friends' sort of kiss.

I had no idea what to feel In fact, I felt as though I was feeling too much altogether. I was shocked, certainly, and quite confused. My stomach flipped as though I had eaten one too many Peppermint Toads and my knees had gone all rubbery. Any thoughts I had were not coherent by any stretch of the imagination.

All I really knew was that George was kissing me and it was rather nice.

He broke away grinning that crooked grin of his.

"See you later."

And he sprinted after his brother down the hall.

I stood there with my mouth hanging open for a good moment before I had the sense to call after him. By then he had disappeared round the corner and I knew I had little hope of catching up to him.

I didn't know what to think. I didn't know if I was capable of thought any more. George Weasley had just kissed me in a decidedly non-platonic manner. In that moment our relationship had changed completely. It made my head spin.

My knees were still knocking together. I shut my eyes and took a deep breath. I was far from calm, but I thought I was perhaps capable of making a decision. I couldn't go after George now—I had little hope of finding either him or Fred until much later when the uproar of whatever they had caused had settled some. And I couldn't very well continue standing in the middle of the corridor like a fool until then.

Dinner. I would go to dinner. Dinner would give me something to do. I doubted it would clear my head any, but it would be sufficiently distracting.

I got down to the Great Hall rather quickly, despite the fact that I was still reeling from what had just happened. I sat down at the table next to Alicia and across from Angelina. My legs were still rubbery.

"I thought you had a bit of a lie-down?" asked Angelina as I absently reached for the pumpkin juice.

"I did."

"I'm not certain it helped," said Alicia. "You're awfully pale."

"I'm all right."

"Why don't you go back up?" suggested Angelina. "We could bring you something—"

The rumble of many voices from the entrance hall interrupted Angelina's offer. Normally, this wouldn't be something to pay mind to, as there was generally a great amount of noise during the dinner hour as students began to file in. But as I listened more closely, I realized a great number of people were shouting, which was not at all characteristic of the dinner hour.

"What is it?" asked Angelina.

"Dunno, but it sounds good," said Alicia, rising from her seat. "Let's go."

I trailed after Angelina and Alicia and joined the crowd of other students who were going to investigate.

I was not entirely prepared for the scene that awaited us. Many students were covered head to toe in what appeared to be mud and there was a distinct odor that one generally associates with outdoor lavatories. In the middle of the crowd stood Fred and George, surrounded by the Inquisitorial Squad, Filch, and Umbridge.

"So!" smirked Umbridge. Her expression was a combination of fury and smugness. "So…you think it amusing to turn a school corridor into a swamp, do you?"

"I'll be damned," murmured Alicia beside me.

"Unbelievable," said Angelina, shaking her head.

"Pretty amusing, yeah," replied Fred boldly.

"I've got the form, Headmistress," said Filch. He looked happy. I had never seen Filch happy. I shuddered involuntarily. It was strange and altogether disconcerting, like seeing Professor McGonagall in a pub of ill repute. "I've got the form and I've got the whips waiting…Oh, let me do it now…"

"Whips?" I hissed to Angelina and Alicia. Other students were making similar comments amongst themselves.

"She wouldn't…" said Alicia, her eyes wide. "It's not allowed…"

"Very good, Argus," said Umbridge. "You two," she gestured at Fred and George, "are about to learn what happens to wrongdoers in my school."

This last sentence was deeply unsettling not only because it indicated that some sort of unusual punishment would be employed. What was most unsettling was how she called Hogwarts 'her school.' I had missed Dumbledore ever since he had left, but it was at that moment that I fully realized what his absence would mean.

I wanted to vomit, preferably on Professor Umbridge.

"You know what? I don't think we are," replied Fred conversationally. "George, I think we've outgrown full-time education."

"Yeah, I've been feeling that way myself," agreed George.

"_What are they doing_?" hissed Alicia.

"Time to test our talents in the real world, d'you reckon?" mused Fred.

"Definitely," agreed George.

With that, they both whipped out their wands and shouted "_Accio_ Brooms!"

There was an almighty crash and several people screamed. Suddenly two broomsticks came flying down the hall toward Fred and George, an iron peg and chain was still attached to one of them. I knew that Umbridge had confiscated both their brooms, but I hadn't been aware of the additional security measures she had taken. The twins caught their brooms easily.

"We won't be seeing you," said Fred to Umbridge as he mounted his broom.

"Yeah, don't bother to keep in touch," added George.

Fred looked around at all of us.

"If anyone fancies buying a Portable Swamp, as demonstrated upstairs, come to number ninety-three Diagon Alley—Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Our new premises!" he announced.

"Typical," muttered Angelina.

"Special discounts to Hogwarts students who swear they're going to use our products to get rid of this old bat," said George, gesturing at Umbridge.

"STOP THEM!" shrieked Umbridge.

But she was too late. Before either Filch or the Inquisitorial Squad could so much as lift a finger, the twins shot up from the ground, the iron peg swinging treacherously from George's broom. Fred looked at Peeves, who had been hovering above the crowd, oddly silent this entire time.

"Give her hell from us, Peeves."

Peeves solemnly took his hat from his head and saluted the twins. Fred and George grinned at the poltergeist, waved at the gaping students, and zoomed through the open doors and away from Hogwarts.

*

No one could talk about anything else for the remainder of dinner. Fred and George had quickly ascended to godlike status and it was clear that they would become one of Hogwarts many legends. Umbridge was beside herself. I ought to have been pleased. More than pleased, actually—I had grown to delight in Umbridge's misfortunes. However, I found myself unable to summon the energy to be excited about her foiled plans. Instead, I picked at my food and said very little.

This added a rather unpleasant dimension to what had happened in the corridor. Perhaps it was all part of the last hurrah; perhaps he was caught up in the moment; perhaps I was just the last person to fool before the big finale. Although there was a big part of me that was saying that George wouldn't do something like that, it was difficult not to focus on the what-ifs on the situation.

These thoughts quickly raised the question of why I cared. If I had strictly platonic feelings toward George, it wouldn't matter if he had kissed me as a joke. I would have been angry with him, certainly, but would I have felt hurt as well? Wouldn't I have worried that it _wasn't_ a joke?

My head spun unpleasantly. I excused myself early from dinner and went back to Gryffindor Tower.

Once in my room, I sat cross-legged on my bed and pulled Chester into my lap. The problem that had precipitated all of this had blossomed into multi-headed Hydra. Every time I tried to solve one, two others would take its place. I certainly could not leave them alone, either—to do so would be stupid and hazardous.

I sighed heavily. Yesterday, I thought my life couldn't become more complicated. Then George kissed me in the corridor and things were even messier than they had been before.

At least he was a good kisser. He did not appear to possess an inner sheepdog, which was good news in any situation, I suppose. His lips were softer than I expected and he tasted of something sweet, though I wasn't certain what exactly.

This last thought made me realize two things, the first of which might seem rather obvious: I had kissed him back. I couldn't have noticed those things if I had been some sort of unwilling, shocked bystander. I was shocked, definitely. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I could not accurately qualify myself as unwilling. Unwilling participants are more prone to shoving the person away and slapping them across the face. Unwilling participants are less likely to notice that someone with some experience was kissing them.

The second part was the fact that I had used the phrase "his lips were softer than I expected." I generally don't speculate about the relative softness of people's lips. I imagine it would be strange if I did. But I had some sort of idea of how soft I expected George's lips to be. It might have been a deeply buried thought, but it was apparently _there._ And the distressing part about it was that was certainly not a normal thought that one has about a strictly platonic relationship.

My stomach did a strange sort of flip. It wasn't a particularly happy or sad sensation. It was one that clearly said, "well, now don't you feel stupid."

There appeared to be a very strong possibility that Angelina and Alicia were right.

The idea that they were right didn't seem quite as foreign as it had in the past week, although it was still not entirely comfortable. With this realization came the rather unpleasant sensation of having my entire world turned on its end. I had come to think of myself as the ultimate authority on myself. There was no reason for me to believe that I wouldn't know something about myself, not to mention something that seemed so obvious and fundamental.

I thought back to the past evening when George had told me I needed to listen to the bolder part of myself. The only thing was I wasn't sure if I _wanted_ to listen anymore. If listening meant admitting I didn't know myself as well as I thought, would it be easier to continue the charade?

I didn't have a good answer to that question, though I suspected that if I had asked George that the night before, he would have told me that ignorance was never the preferable option.

I chewed my lip. George. Had he gotten carried away? Why today, why not earlier when he would have had time to explain himself properly?

I couldn't think of a proper answer to any of those questions, either. And despite the fact that I still wasn't entirely comfortable admitting that there was some merit to the "secret feelings" theory, not having those answers made me more uncomfortable. If it turned out that the whole event had been part of the show, what would I do? The things I had just learned wouldn't merely disappear. If anything, they would hurt me. I did not like to consider the prospect of being hurt. I especially did not like to consider the prospect of being hurt in _that way_ by someone I trusted.

I inhaled sharply and was surprised to find myself blinking back tears. Nothing had happened—well, apart from the whole hallway scene and the twins' subsequent departure from school. But a lot of what I was feeling was based on conjecture and I didn't exactly have irrefutable proof that things would go so awfully.

However, even feeling based on conjecture can be horribly strong and after a week of whirlwind thoughts and overall mental exhaustion, I was not entirely capable of thinking rationally. I buried my face in my hands and burst into tears.

It felt good to cry. It was an immense relief. I had been keeping so much bottled up inside of me and it needed to be let go. Chester did not feel the same way and crawled out of my lap and resituated himself at the foot of my bed. I didn't take it personally—he had never liked it when I cried. Mum used to say he was a typical male in that respect.

The quiet, but unmistakable sound of the door creaking open quickly silenced me. I choked back a sob and kept my head buried in my hands. It would be just my luck for Angelina or Alicia to see me like this. They were dear friends, but at the moment I didn't want to listen to any I-told-you-so's or variations thereof.

"Sophie?"

I looked up, thinking that I had heard wrong. I hadn't.

It was Vivian.

*

**A/N: **Umbridge, Filch, Fred, and George's dialogue from "So…so you think it amusing…" through "Give her hell from us, Peeves" originally appears in _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix._ The narrative bits in between (along with Angelina and Alicia's lines) were written by me.

Feedback? Pretty please?


	12. Bewilderment

**Disclaimer:** If I owned Harry Potter, the fifth book would have been called _Harry Potter and the Onset of Puberty._

**Author's Note:** As always, thanks for the feedback! I was nervous about how the last chapter would go over—I've rewritten it so many times that it's ridiculous. I'm glad that it went over well. Also, if you can spot the tribute to _Love, Actually_ in this chapter, you are probably awesome.

_Chapter 12: Bewilderment_

I froze like a unicorn in the lamplight. If we were going to have another row, this was the worst possible time for it.

"Sophie?" she said again, somewhat tentatively.

I wanted to respond, but I found myself speechless, my mouth hanging open stupidly. _Why_ does everything have to be so bloody complicated?

"What's wrong?" She had approached me and was now sitting carefully down on the edge of my bed, her brow furrowed in worry. "Is everything all right? Did someone get hurt?"

I cleared my throat and managed to find my words.

"George…er…George kissed me."

She looked mildly taken aback. "Really? But isn't that a good thing?"

"I—er—I'm not sure. Maybe?" I replied, thoroughly confused. "Why are you speaking to me?"

It was Viv's turn to look uncomfortable.

"Right…about that." She chewed her lip for a moment before exhaling sharply. "I…I've been a terrible bitch."

What I said next was probably not terribly sensitive. In my defense, I'd had a very long day and was not exactly thinking properly.

"Well…yes…you have."

There were tears standing in the corners of Viv's eyes and they spilled over as she started laughing and crying at the same time.

"I'm sorry, that was rude," I said immediately. "What I meant…"

"It's true, though," replied Viv.

"No, but what I meant is that I've been a terrible bitch as well. Neither of us have been on our best behavior lately."

"You weren't as awful as I was."

"I'm equally at fault, Viv. You know that."

"But I said all those awful things, I l-lied—"

"Viv, does it really matter?"

"Of course it does!" she exclaimed. "Dan started…questioning the intent of the Ministry after Terry Boot had detention with Umbridge and his hand got cut open. And I…I had some doubts as well. That day in Hogsmeade…Dan wasn't sick. We had a row. He…he wanted me to work things out with you because he could see that I was miserable spending all my time with his friends. And I…I…"

She shut her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. A tear escaped and rolled quickly down her cheek.

"I…I was too bloody proud to apologize. And the worst…the worst part of it is I can't undo any of it. And I might have ruined everything because of that. I…I…I'm just…I'm so sorry, Sophie."

Her voice cracked and several tears rolled down her cheeks.

This may sound stupid, but it was as though a giant invisible weight had been lifted from my chest. I had scarcely been aware that I was carrying it, but its absence was an utter relief. And though Viv's cruelest words still had a sting, I thought that perhaps it would be best to let some things go.

"It's all right, Viv," I said. "I'm sorry, too."

She started crying harder.

"Viv, I said it's all right—"

"B-b-but it shouldn't be," she sobbed.

"Well, I reckon that all the nonsense my mum spouts about the value of friendship must be true then," I stated. Viv gave a hiccupping laugh. "Really, Viv. I'm sorry, too. I'm sorry for the things I said. I'm sorry I wasn't mature enough or brave enough to apologize earlier. I'm sorry that I let this become such an issue."

We looked at each other for a moment, Viv's face streaked with tears and mine most likely bearing the evidence of a recent cry.

"Let's hug and move on," I suggested. Viv broke into a teary smile and quickly embraced me. I hugged her back fiercely, a few tears running down my cheeks and onto her robes.

"Well," said Viv, releasing me. She wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her robes. "I think that's probably the stupidest thing we've ever done."

"Without a doubt," I agreed.

"I'm glad it's over, though," she said. "I've missed you." 

"I missed you, too, Viv."

She grinned. "Even if I am a terrible bitch?"

"We're well matched in that respect."

She laughed. She looked utterly relieved. _I_ was utterly relieved.

You know, apart from the whole George situation.

"But now you must tell me precisely what happened," she said, suddenly becoming quite serious and focused.

"With what?"

"With what? _With George_!"

"Oh…er…right. He kissed me."

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "I know that. Tell me how it happened."

"There's not much to tell. I was going down to dinner and he and Fred came running through the corridor. I asked what they had done, Fred said I'd find out, and then George stopped running, grabbed my face, and kissed me. Then he said 'See you later' and ran off with Fred."

Viv blinked. "He actually said 'see you later?'"

"Yes."

She sighed. "Well, I suppose I ought not be surprised."

"No, not really."

"And I take it you enjoyed it?"

I frowned. "What?"

"You're not angry about it. You didn't slap him across the face. You've clearly realized that you think of him as more than a friend."

"I'm…honestly, I'm too confused at the moment to really know exactly what I'm feeling."

"I think you know," said Viv. "Perhaps you're not comfortable with the idea yet."

"I dunno…and even if I was, there's a good chance he doesn't think about me…in that way."

"Was the kiss French in origin?"

"_Viv_! That's—er—hardly—" My cheeks were burning.

"He thinks about you that way."

"Well….maybe it was part of their grand exit. Maybe it was just a stupid impulse. He didn't exactly stay around to talk about it."

"I don't think you honestly believe George would do that to you."

"I can't really help it, can I? Generally, a bloke doesn't snog you and then sprint off in the other direction."

"But he snogged you," Viv pointed out. "Properly, from what it sounds like. The sorts of guys who do that don't overlap with George Weasley."

I sighed heavily.

"Owl him," suggested Viv.

"What would I say?"

"Oh, you know, talk about the weather and then casually drop into the conversation the fact that you'd like to marry him and have lots of sex and babies."

"_Vivian_!"

"Really, you can't expect me to not tease you just a little," she said grinning.

"You're really no help at all."

Just then the door opened and Angelina and Alicia walked in. They both stopped and stared when they caught sight of the two of us sitting together on my bed, clearly not shouting at each other.

"You've made up!" squealed Alicia, sprinting across the room and bouncing onto my bed. "Oh this is wonderful, I'm so glad—" She abruptly cut off, her face pulling into a frown, and smacked us both in the shoulder.

"Ow!"

"You are both so _stupid_!" she exclaimed. "Honestly! I've been pulling my hair out because of the two of you and I can't believe—oh, but you've made up! This is so wonderful!"

And with that, she promptly burst into tears.

"She's on her rag week," explained Angelina while Alicia wept noisily on Viv's shoulder.

"That explains quite a lot," stated Viv.

And despite the fact that I had been up obscenely late the previous evening and supposedly learned a lesson from it, I stayed up late again that evening. Viv and I had to make our apologies to Angelina and Alicia and then we had quite a lot of catching up to do. Although we spent most of the time talking, I didn't mention what had happened with George. It wasn't something that I felt like sharing just yet.

*

I woke up early the next morning for the sole purpose of composing and posting some sort of letter that adequately expressed the uncomfortable mess of feelings that had developed yesterday afternoon. I dressed quickly and went down to the common room and sat at my usual table, parchment and quill in hand.

_George—_ I wrote.

I paused and thought for a moment. What could I begin to say to him? I chewed on my bottom lip.

_I'll be honest—I'm not exactly certain what to write, apart from the fact that you've really confused me. That's not to say I'm angry or anything of the sort, but really, George, you can't do something like that without a proper explanation and expect me not to be at least slightly confused._

_I hope you arrived safely. Owl me when you have a moment._

—_Sophie_

I waited for the ink to dry and folded the parchment quickly and hurried down to the Owlery. I enlisted the help of a large tawny owl who didn't seem particularly pleased to be woken so early.

"Go quickly, all right?" The owl hooted softly and abruptly took off. I sighed heavily and my stomach flipped nervously. I had done my part. All I had to do was wait for a reply. That was fairly simple, right?

Wrong.

Angelina, Alicia, Lee, and I were all summoned to Umbridge's office during our first class. I was suddenly very grateful that I knew nothing of Fred and George's escape plans—I couldn't possibly be in trouble if I wasn't involved. That would be stupid, even for Umbridge.

"It is my understanding that you four were friends with Fred and George Weasley," said Professor Umbridge once the four of us had assembled in her office. "I want to make it absolutely clear that such behavior will not be tolerated; the Weasley twins only managed to flee Hogwarts grounds because of the confusion. Had it been any other situation, myself, Mr. Filch, and the Inquisitorial Squad would have apprehended them."

"Honestly, Professor, we didn't know anything about it," said Alicia.

"Miss Spinnet, did I ask you if you knew anything about it?" asked Umbridge sharply.

"No, Professor," sighed Alicia.

Umbridge gave a smug smirk. "_However_—"

Alicia and I exchanged a quick glance.

"If the Weasley brothers have any further plans to disrupt the school, I encourage you to report them to me. While such antics may appear to be amusing on the surface, in truth, they are sinister and malicious attacks. I know the Weasley twins hold anti-Ministry sentiments and it would not surprise me to discover that they are using Hogwarts as a venue to attack the Ministry."

We were all silent for a moment. Lee was desperately trying to keep a straight face.

"Please, Professor," said Alicia quietly. "Fred and George aren't like that. They just like to have a laugh…sometimes at someone else's expense, but really, they mean no harm."

"Do you mean to say that turning a school corridor into a swamp is your idea of 'a laugh', Miss Spinnet?" asked Umbridge.

"Well, no, what I—"

"Then I suggest that you not waste your time concocting defenses and excuses for these miscreants."

Alicia looked as though she didn't know what to say. Lee opened his mouth angrily, but Angelina stomped on his foot before he could say anything. Umbridge turned her gaze on me.

"Miss Fletcher, I understand you sent an owl to George Weasley this morning."

My face flushed angrily.

"You _read_ my post?"

"I confiscated it," said Umbridge unapologetically. "It has been burned."

"You can't do that! That was a private correspondence!"

"I'm afraid you'll find that I can, Miss Fletcher. I am well within my rights as Headmistress to examine correspondence to individuals who pose a threat to the school."

"A _threat_?"

"Professor, please, Fred and George—"

"_Did I ask you to speak, Miss Spinnet_?"

Alicia fell silent. I was seething.

"All correspondence to and from Fred and George Weasley will be read and confiscated," said Umbridge in a clipped tone. A loud silence followed her declaration. "In the meantime, I suggest you carefully review who you choose to consort with. You are dismissed."

I was too angry to speak for almost the rest of the day. I suspected that Dolores Umbridge enjoyed making life more difficult for students who didn't exactly accept her way of thought. She had really outdone herself this time. The worst part was that I didn't even want to talk to George about the damn swamp or overthrowing the Ministry—I just wanted to send a perfectly benign letter expressing the fact that he had confused me in the most spectacular way imaginable. And I certainly wasn't going to go to Umbridge's office and explain the precise reason _why_ I needed to send an owl to George Weasley.

Umbridge had found the perfect way to get other my skin without having realized it. This did absolutely nothing for my mood. It also made it almost impossible to enjoy the fact that the frequency of pranks and misbehavior had increased dramatically since Fred and George's departure, presumably for the sole purpose of giving Umbridge a difficult time.

"You've been in a temper all day," said Viv that night in the common room. We were back to doing homework together at our usual table. "And you won't say anything. What's going on, Sophie?"

"Umbridge is reading our post," I said quietly. "And she's put a ban on all correspondence to and from Fred and George."

"The owl you sent this morning—?"

"Read and burned by Umbridge herself."

Viv swore quite colorfully.

"I don't know what I'm going to do now. I certainly won't be able to get to a post office by the end of term."

"Well, I'm certain they'll realize that their owls aren't being delivered at some point…"

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. "I was hoping to have this settled before term ended."

"What do you mean by 'settled?'"

"I don't know…that I'd have the opportunity to hear his explanation for why he did what he did…"

"I think he already explained. With his l—"

"Shut up, you know my feelings on this."

Viv rolled her eyes. "Fortunately, that doesn't mean I have to _agree_ with them."

"Look, it just really…really mucks things up."

"I'll give you that," conceded Viv.

"Sophie, could I ask you a question?" asked Alicia, sitting down in one of the unoccupied chairs, Angelina taking a seat next to her.

"You just did."

"Well, I'd like to ask two, then."

"Fine. What is it?"

"Why were you writing to George Weasley?"

_Damn_.

"What, I can't write him now?" I asked, trying to sound as casual as possible.

"You were up before all of us and had the owl posted by breakfast," said Angelina, arching an eyebrow.

"_Lee_ hadn't even written to them yet and he's their best mate," added Alicia. They both sounded as though they had spent a fair amount of time discussing this.

I shrugged. "I was up early and I wanted to know how they managed to keep such an excellent secret from all of us."

"But why write to just _George_? Why not send another owl to Fred?"

I couldn't really think of a proper answer to that question and I also knew that they would have to find out eventually. I cleared my throat.

"George kissed me."

Angelina's eyes went wide and Alicia let out a high-pitched shriek that caused most of the people in the common room to turn and look at her strangely.

"_What_?"

"He kissed me."

"You understand that we're going to need more detail than that," said Angelina.

"Explain. Please," squeaked Alicia.

"The…er…the evening they left, I was going down to dinner. They both came running through the third floor corridor and I asked what they were doing. Fred said I'd find out and then George slowed down, kissed me, said 'See you later' and ran off."

"Well, that's not terribly romantic," said Alicia after a moment of silence.

"But we were right, weren't we?" said Angelina triumphantly.

"What, your 'secret feelings' theory? I…er…look, it's really complicated, to put it mildly."

"She kissed him back," added Viv. I flushed.

"_Viv_!"

"You told Viv and not us?" asked Alicia.

"I walked into the dormitory when she was crying about it," explained Viv. "Then we got to talking."

"You were _crying_?"

"I was overwhelmed!" I said defensively. "It's just…it's really complicated. He took me completely by surprise and it's…it's really confusing. I…I had a slight concern that it was…a joke, a part of the show and—"

"He wouldn't do that," said Angelina.

"Still…it's just…a lot to think about all at once."

"But you do admit it, then?" asked Alicia eagerly.

"Er…no…really, I just want to speak with him at this point and get some things worked out. I don't want to make any decisions before…"

Alicia rolled her eyes. "What's to work out? He _kissed _you and _you_ kissed him back."

"_Properly_," added Viv.

"It's a damn sight more complicated than that," I protested. "I'm not doing anything until I have a word with him and with Umbridge reading our post, that won't happen until the end of term."

"You're just avoiding it now," said Angelina.

"I am _not_." I stood up and picked up my books. "I'm going to bed now. It's been a long day and I don't want to talk about this anymore."

I turned on my heel and went upstairs to the dormitory.

*

I had thought that I would scarcely be able to concentrate on anything other than my personal problems. Luckily for me, the rest of the term was really too stressful to really allow me to spend much time doing non-academic thinking. Most teachers showed no mercy when it came to N. E. W. T. preparation and I soon found myself with piles and piles of work to keep myself occupied. The actual exams were twice as exhausting as I thought they'd be, but not nearly as impossible as I had made them out to be.

Of course, Dolores Umbridge cannot go terribly long without doing something horrid. Hagrid had long been a thorn in her side and she decided the best time to remove it would be right in the midst of O. W. L. and N. E. W. T. exams. She couldn't just sack him, though—no, she had to call in Aurors and try to have him arrested in the middle of the night, probably to make sure that no students realized that she was unfairly sacking another teacher in a decidedly cruel manner. However, the fifth years taking the O. W. L. Astronomy practical exam got a good eyeful of what happened and the entire school knew the next morning. Hagrid got away, but Professor McGonagall was injured by several spells when she tried to intervene. She had been rushed to St. Mungo's for treatment. This was doubly distressing as McGonagall was our greatest advocate and possibly the only teacher that frightened Umbridge on some level. There weren't many days left in the term, but with McGonagall gone, it seemed like Umbridge would finally be running unchecked.

In addition to exams and the departure of McGonagall, my thoughts were also occupied by the fact that approaching end of term. It was my last year as a student at Hogwarts. The school was something that had been familiar to me since I was eleven. Now I was on the other side of my eighteenth birthday and it suddenly seemed as though the time had gone too quickly. It was strange to think I wouldn't be returning the next year and that the rest of the school would move on without me. Brenna had found her niche—she wouldn't need me so much next year. It was enough to make me feel terribly insignificant.

But before I could get terribly upset about leaving Hogwarts, Harry Potter had his little adventure at the Ministry of Magic. My thoughts on growing up seemed quite insignificant and silly when You-Know-Who had just made an appearance too big for even the staunchest disbelievers to ignore. No one could talk of anything else; no one could _think_ of anything else—_he_ was back. Even though I had believed Dumbledore when he made the claim nearly a year ago, it was terribly frightening and also terribly _real_ in a way that it had not been before. Before, you could easily imagine him being back but not necessarily present—maybe as a weak, incorporeal cloud of evil that was floating around somewhere. But now it was very apparent that he was much more substantial and just as dangerous as he'd been years ago.

But there were bright spots in the utterly bleak realization that was gripping the wizarding world. Both Dumbledore and McGonagall returned to Hogwarts shortly after the incident at the Ministry. Although the mood at Hogwarts was grim, Dumbledore's presence provided a very tangible relief. Also cheering was the fact that Umbridge (according to rumor) had been attacked by centaurs in the Forbidden Forest and was unfit to serve as Headmistress. Lee had made a thank you card that had over one hundred signatures before McGonagall confiscated it (though I believe she was secretly pleased by his effort and the wide show of support).

And so the school year ended in an explosion of fear and relief. In fact, in all of the confusion, it was not until I was on the train back home that I remembered I would once again have an open line of communication with George Weasley. I couldn't continue saying "Well, it's complicated" and leave it alone. I would have to do something about it.

Bugger.


	13. Brittle Madness

**Disclaimer:** I don't own it and I doubt JKR would want to make a trade with me.

**A/N:** Sorry for that delay. Life got in the way. Anyway, I had lots of fun writing this chapter, so I hope you have fun reading it. Also—if you know what song the chapter title is from, you're probably awesome.

_Chapter 13: Brittle Madness_

If I had to describe our last train ride on the Hogwarts Express, I would call it unremarkably strange. Perhaps that's slightly oxymoronic, but it fit the occasion well. In some ways, it was like any other train ride, and that was familiar and fairly unremarkable. We joked and talked. There wasn't a conscious effort to make this last one particularly memorable or significant in some way. I think if we had tried to, it would have been that much harder to make the final break. However, it was also a strange occasion because it was our last time on the Hogwarts Express. Going to and from school had been a fairly routine occurrence over the past seven years and it was rather odd to have such a mundane task charged with this sense of finality and nostalgia. Leaving wasn't exactly a surprise, but it was still shocking. It was like jumping into water that you know is cold—it's not a surprise, but the cold still knocks the breath out of you and shocks you on a more basic level.

Equally strange was the fact that Fred and George were not there. Despite their disinterest in school, I think we all expected them to complete the journey with us. None of us had really become properly accustomed to their absence and it was felt particularly strongly in the train compartment. However, nothing exploded and I suppose that was a rather welcome change.

The train finally arrived at Platform 9 ¾. I gathered my things and tried not to look back as I made my way off the train with the others. I would see it again—either when Brenna went back to school or someday later when I had children of my own.

"Oh, bugger," sighed Viv as we piled off the train. "I'm getting all weepy now. I promised myself I wouldn't do this." Her eyes were sparkling.

"Oh, Viv." Alicia slung an arm around her shoulders.

"I'll miss it all, I think," said Angelina.

"I won't," said Lee.

"There's another moment ruined," said Angelina dryly.

Lee grinned. "Well, not all of it. Parts of it. And I'm assuming that I'll be seeing you lot around fairly often, so what's to miss?"

"Aww," said Alicia, slinging her other arm around Lee's shoulders. "Isn't he a dear?"

"He knows how to be charming when he needs to be," said Angelina. Lee grinned cheekily.

"I see my mum," sighed Alicia, glancing at the crowd. "I better be off. Promise you'll keep in touch?"

"Good friends don't need to make promises like that because that's the sort of friends they are," said Viv.

"Viv, you've become sentimental," I teased, elbowing her lightly.

"She always gets all mushy right before she cries," said Alicia knowingly.

"You're not going to start crying, are you?" asked Lee warily.

"I've changed my mind, I don't want to see any of you again," said Viv, laughing.

"All right, no promises, no tears," said Angelina. "See you soon."

Hugs were distributed and we parted. Strangely enough, it didn't feel like a goodbye—just an intermission of sorts.

"Our parents have found each other," reported Viv, standing on her tiptoes and peering over the crowd. "And once again, Dad's getting terribly impatient. You'd think he be sentimental, being my last year and all."

I shrugged. "You can't force a hippogriff to change his feathers."

"True. Have you got your trunk?"

"No, it's one car over," I said. "I'll meet up with you in a moment. Send my apologies to your father."

"All right."

I had to wait a few minutes before I could get at my trunk, but luckily it wasn't wedged in too badly. I yanked it out of the luggage compartment and picked up Chester's traveling basket. I turned around and nearly walked into George Weasley.

"Oh!"

I nearly dropped the basket. I had not exactly expected him to be on the platform. For some reason, I had thought that he would owl me. But, as I've said before, George Weasley is many things but he is rarely predictable, which is probably why he was standing on the platform looking somewhat amused.

"Were you not expecting me?"

"Er…not really," I said, suddenly feeling quite nervous, though he seemed quite at ease. "Sorry I didn't write—you know Umbridge put a blanket ban on all correspondence to and from you and Fred?"

He grinned. "Yeah, we suspected as much after the fifth owl came back."

"Ah." I noticed his jacket—it was bright green and scaly. "This is…new."

"It's dragon skin," he informed me with a note of pride in his voice.

"It's very…green," I replied. "Er…business is good then?"

"Yeah, it's great."

My stomach flipped and I tried to disguise the fact that my hands were shaking.

"Sophie!" I looked up. My dad was calling me.

"Er…sorry," I said quickly, giving a little wave to my dad. "I…er…"

"Could I meet you for tea tomorrow?" he asked.

"Er—I…yeah, of course," I stammered.

"D'you know the Green Dragon in Diagon Alley?"

"Yeah, I've gone past it."

"Two o'clock, then?"

I nodded. "That's fine."

"All right." He grinned that crooked grin. It was slightly reassuring despite the fact that our entire conversation was extremely uncomfortable. "See you later."

"Yeah, see you…"

I felt dazed as I walked away, dragging my trunk behind me.

*

"What was that?" asked Viv as soon as I had finished greeting my parents.

"What was what?"

"You know."

I shrugged. "He asked if I'd fancy meeting him for tea tomorrow."

Viv sighed heavily.

"You know, you could have done something apart from just standing there."

"What?"

"Snogged him, Sophie."

I snorted. "Oh _right._ In front of my parents and the whole bloody school."

"It would have been less awkward than that conversation you just had."

"No, it wouldn't. Especially if he wants to meet me for tea so he can explain that it was all impulse and he didn't mean it."

"For the eight hundredth and eleventh time, Sophie, George is not that sort of bloke. You _know_ that."

"He's a wonderful person, Viv, but he can still make mistakes."

She looked at me. "Sophie. That was not a mistake."

"You don't know that."

"Kisses like _that_ from blokes like George don't just happen because of impulse. There's some thought behind it."

I sighed. "I dunno. I'm not going to jump to any conclusions until I hear it from him."

"And then what?"

"What do you mean?"

"If he says he snogged you because he fancies you, then what are you going to do?"

I shrugged. "I…er…I dunno."

"You can't just keep avoiding the issue—at some point you're going to be held accountable for some sort of decision."

"Well, I'm not at that point, am I?"

"Sophie, you're meeting him for tea."

"Yes."

"_Tomorrow_."

"But not _today_," I pointed out triumphantly. Viv groaned.

"I hate you."

"No, you don't. Besides, if you didn't have me, who would you analyze?"

"Someone far less complicated, indecisive, and mad."

"Point taken."

"Are you quite done?" The old man who monitors the barrier between Platform 9 ¾ and King's Cross was looking at us slightly impatiently. "You're holding up the queue, girls."

"Sorry," I said. I grabbed hold of my trunk and walked through the barrier.

*

The next morning I woke at half past ten and found that I was restless and slightly nervous. I showered and dressed and tried to pretend it was a completely unremarkable day.

"Ah, she's rejoined the living," said Mum as I entered the kitchen.

"I deserve a bit of a lie in, don't I?" I asked, grabbing an orange from the fruit bowl on the table. "After all the work I put in on my academics."

"We'll see about that when your marks come."

"I'm fairly certain I didn't fail anything. Where's Brenna?"

"Still asleep," said Mum.

"And you think _I'm_ lazy." I started peeling my orange and inhaled deeply. I love the smell of citrus.

"I'm n-n-not lazy," yawned Brenna, padding into the kitchen still in her pajamas.

"No, it's only half past eleven," said Mum, glancing up at the clock. Brenna shrugged.

"I was tired."

"Have you girls got plans today?" asked Mum. "I could use some help cleaning the kitchen."

"_Mum_, it's the _first_ day of summer holiday!" complained Brenna. I noticed she had developed a penchant for dramatics in her first year at Hogwarts. "Have Sophie or Dad use magic, it works just as well."

"Ah, but it doesn't build _character_," said Mum, clapping Brenna enthusiastically on the shoulder.

"Sorry, but I'm…er…I'm having tea with a friend today," I said quickly. Even though I didn't exactly want to see George, it was preferable to cleaning the kitchen without magic. "You're on your own."

"Who're you seeing?" asked Mum.

"George Weasley," I said as casually as possible.

"He sent you that ink this past summer?"

"Well, he and Fred sent it."

"And he also turned the corridor into a swamp and fled school by broomstick?"

"Also accompanied by Fred," I clarified. "How'd you know? I thought I only mentioned that in passing."

"Brenna sent us a very detailed account," said Mum.

Brenna shrugged. "It was very elaborate. I was very impressed."

Mum took a sip of her coffee. "Well, I suppose I ought to forbid you from seeing either one of them, but the ink came out of the carpet and I heard that Umbridge woman was a horror, so I can't very well hold it against them, can I?"

"I suppose not. They're harmless, really. Well…mostly."

"Where are you meeting him?"

"The Green Dragon in Diagon Alley."

"Diagon Alley? I'm not certain how I feel about that."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that your headmaster very recently dueled with the most dangerous Dark wizard and I'm not convinced it would be prudent for you to go waltzing about Diagon Alley unattended."

"I was going to Apparate in," I said. "That's safe enough. Besides, I doubt that You-Know-Who will be out for tea at two o'clock in the afternoon."

"Don't be pert, this is a very serious concern."

I sighed. "Mum, I'm probably going to work at Flourish and Blotts—which, may I remind you, is in Diagon Alley—until I get a proper job."

Mum arched an eyebrow. "Well, we'll have to discuss this with your father tonight."

"But in the meantime, can I go?"

"Only if you promise to be extremely careful."

"Yeah, don't talk to strangers, don't accept Chocolate Frogs from anyone—"

"Sophie…" It was her warning voice. I trailed off with a sly grin.

"Could I go with you?" asked Brenna.

Suddenly, this conversation became quite awkward.

"Er—"

"Please? Fred and George told me if I visited the shop they'd give me money off for being a guinea pig."

"Guinea pig?" asked Mum, skeptically.

"You can blame her for that," I replied. "Look, Brenna, I'm just going for tea. I'm not going to be around terribly long to shop. Perhaps I could take you next weekend?"

"Provided that your father agrees to it," added Mom.

"Provided that Dad agrees to it. It'll be a sisters outing." She didn't look terribly enthused. "And I'll buy you something."

"All right," she agreed promptly.

"What, the thrill of my company isn't enough incentive?"

"I live with you."

"True, but do I really have to bribe you?"

"Yes."

"Well, why don't we get started on this kitchen, then?"

Brenna gave a beleaguered sigh. "_Mum_."

"Oh, it won't be long."

Eventually, Brenna managed to talk Mum out of the kitchen cleaning extravaganza, swearing up and down that we would most definitely help her with it next week.

I decided not to mention the fact that Brenna had her fingers crossed behind her back.

*

Diagon Alley had changed a lot since I'd been there last. The Ministry had wasted no time in pasting up posters with pictures of suspected Death Eaters, as well as other literature and suggestions on how to behave in the upcoming crisis. The posters weren't terribly disconcerting, but the silence was. Generally, Diagon Alley was a boisterous sort of place where you had to speak up to be heard. Now, even whispers seemed too loud for the still streets. I quickly ducked into Flourish and Blotts, extremely disconcerted.

"Sophie!" Margaret looked up from the book she had been reading. She marked the page and set the book on the register. She was a middle-aged woman with a pleasant disposition and she had been working at Flourish and Blotts for years. "I didn't expect to see you so soon. Are you done with school, then?"

"Got back yesterday," I replied. "Is Mr. Flourish in? I was hoping you needed another pair of hands this summer."

"No plans yet?" she asked, looking slightly surprised.

"I'm evaluating my options, as it were."

She smiled warmly. "Not to worry, love. It took my Bernard three years to make that decision and he turned out all right."

"Thanks. I'm hoping it will just be this summer, though."

"I have faith." She got off the creaky stool. "I'll get Frank, he's downstairs." She opened the door to the cellar. "Frank! You've got a visitor!"

"One moment!" came a slightly muffled reply.

"It's awfully quiet out there," I said. Margaret nodded and gave a small shudder.

"Eerie, innit? I keep hearing people say it will go back to normal soon, but I've noticed no difference."

"Maybe when summer really starts…"

She gave a grave nod. "Maybe."

"Sophie! What a surprise!" said Mr. Flourish as he heaved himself up the final steps of the cellar.

"Hi, Mr. Flourish."

"Finished with school, are you?"

"Got back yesterday. I was wondering if you needed another pair of hands this summer? I haven't got plans yet."

"She's like my Bernard," said Margaret fondly.

"Evaluating your options?" he asked with a grin.

"I suppose."

"Well, I think we could easily fit you into the schedule," he said, putting his glasses on and reaching for a notepad that was behind the register.

"We're short on Saturdays and Thursdays," Margaret informed him.

"Yes, I see." He frowned at the paper. "How about Monday through Thursday ten to five and then the full shift Saturday?"

"That sounds fine."

"Excellent." He scribbled on the notepad. "Wendell and Kathleen will be pleased to hear you're back."

I grinned. "That's because I don't mind doing inventory."

He chuckled. "Can you start tomorrow?"

"Absolutely." I glanced at my watch. "I hate to run, but I'm meeting a friend for tea at two."

"All right. We'll see you tomorrow then, Sophie."

"See you."

My confidence and sense of ease quickly eroded as I exited the bookshop. The meeting with George was suddenly quite close and much more intimidating than it had seemed the day before. The eerie silence surrounding me didn't help, either. I tried to relax. Everything would be all right. Hadn't I told Viv that I didn't really have any expectations? If I didn't have expectations, I couldn't be disappointed or upset. This thought was not nearly as reassuring as I would have liked it to be, but I clung to it like a life preserver.

I found the Green Dragon easily. I glanced at my watch as I entered the small shop. I was early and the place was noticeably bereft of redheads. I ordered my tea from the counter and went and sat at a table near the window.

I had brought a book with me not because it was particularly riveting or interesting, but because I wanted to avoid staring aimlessly at the door, nervously waiting for George to come in. It was a slim paperback written by a Muggle mystery writer that Mum liked. I tried to immerse myself in the words, doing my best not to look up.

About twenty pages in, I became aware of the chair in front of me scraping across the floor. I hesitated for a moment and looked up. It was George, of course. I didn't expect it to be anyone else.

"Is it any good?" he asked.

"What?"

"Your book."

"Oh. I dunno, I'm not far along enough to tell." I reluctantly shut the book and set it aside. "Er—how are you?"

"I'm well."

"How's the shop?"

"Very good." He looked quite pleased. "Business is excellent."

"My sister talked me into taking her next week. She said you'd give her money off for being a test subject."

He grinned. "You know, such benefits could be yours if you decided to take Fred and me up on our offer."

"Thanks, but I've got a job."

"You made a decision then?"

"No. I'm going back to Flourish and Blotts for the summer. Or until I work things out."

"You will soon enough."

"I certainly hope so."

Silence followed and my stomach dropped. Up until that point I could pretend we had been having a perfectly normal conversation. I picked at my fingernails and considered mentioning the weather. Anything to change the subject, to keep the conversation moving in a direction that was comfortable.

"So," I said with false brightness, "I—er…that—er…" I looked up. George was grinning boldly. "You're laughing at me."

"No, I was wondering how long you would try and skate around things."

"Well, there's no way to bring that up gracefully." My voice sounded shrill and my heart was racing. "You…er…you didn't exactly stay around to…explain things."

He looked quite amused. "I thought I was perfectly clear."

"Well, I could use some clarification. Er…you…you can't really…do that and just…run off without saying anything."

"I said I'd see you later."

"That doesn't exactly clear anything up."

He still looked amused. "I fancy you, Sophie. Is that clear enough for you?"

Had I been standing, I would have needed to sit down after that statement. You might think that I shouldn't be so shocked, as Viv, Angelina, and Alicia were practically telling me the same thing. However, it was different coming from George. The bluntness of the statement was not subject to any dodgy interpretation or analysis.

"I…er…I…" I stammered.

"You're surprised?" he asked with a grin.

"Well, yes, of course I am."

"I thought I was rather obvious."

"Obvious?"

"Well, yeah, between partnering with you in class, visiting you while you were doing homework, and waiting for you outside of Umbridge's office, I thought it was fairly obvious," he recited, ticking off each incident on a finger. "And that's ignoring the most obvious incident of all."

"I thought you were being nice," I protested weakly.

He quirked an eyebrow. "Sophie, I'm not certain what world you live in, but people generally don't go around and snog other people to be 'nice.'"

"I meant the other things," I amended hastily. My cheeks were flaming.

"All right, but risk the wrath of Umbridge for niceness? I wouldn't have done that for Fred or Lee, you know."

"But…you've partnered with them in class and bothered them while they're working on homework!" I pointed out.

"You're overlooking the fact that both Lee and Fred are male," he replied.

"Still…you know…it was all highly subject to interpretation!" I stammered.

"Were you expecting me to recite sonnets?"

"No! I…I just…" I took a deep breath. "Those are all…fairly benign actions."

"Which is why I cleared things up," he concluded.

"That was hardly clearing anything up."

"Oh?"

"I mean…you…you might have done it because you were…really happy that your swamp was…successful."

I did not expect him to start laughing uproariously at this suggestion. In fact, I resented it slightly. Here I was voicing my legitimate concerns and he was laughing at me.

"Sophie, that makes absolutely no sense," he said once he managed to control his laughter, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.

"Yes, it does!" I protested. "People are sometimes…impulsive when they're happy."

"Not quite like that, love."

"Well, what was I supposed to think?" I exclaimed. "If a friend had gone and snogged you and then ran off, you would be searching for some sort of rational explanation, too!"

"_That_ is not a rational explanation."

"Well, what was I supposed to think?" I repeated.

"Maybe that I fancied you?"

"But that's not really rational," I said, my voice going slightly quiet. He gave a bemused sort of frown.

"And why's that?"

"Because…you're a friend. You're a nice bloke. There wasn't a reason for me to think that you were driven by…some other motivation."

"Well, now you know better," he replied cheerfully. "So how about it? Can I take you to dinner?"

"What? Dinner? Like a date?"

"You could call it that."

I felt as though my stomach had climbed up into the back of my throat. This was not how I envisioned the conversation going and I desperately wished I could find a way out of it.

"Look…er…can I think about—"

"No," replied George promptly.

"No?" I repeated, slightly surprised.

"I know you, Sophie. You'll just pretend to think about it, hope I forget about it, and avoid me whenever I try to bring it up."

"I would not!"

George arched an eyebrow. "Sophie, you're not exactly the most confrontational person in the world."

"_I've_ never kissed someone and run off."

The words were out of my mouth before I could really give much thought to them and I immediately wished I could take them back. George's expression became slightly serious.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You didn't exactly have to deal with the consequences immediately. You had time to…work things out."

"You've had the same amount of time, Sophie. You've just avoided the issue."

"I've scarcely been _aware_ of the issue long enough to avoid it!"

"That's rubbish and you know it. You're a clever girl and I have a difficult time believing you actually believe such faulty reasoning."

"Maybe I'm not as clever as you think."

He gave a beleaguered sigh. "Yes or no, Sophie. This isn't that difficult."

"Yes, it is! You drop this huge revelation on me and then expect me to just leap into a decision without any thought?"

"What's to think about? You make a decision based on what you feel."

"What if I don't know? I haven't had an awful lot of time for self-examination."

"Sophie, I know you well enough to know that you were doing plenty of that after we left."

I exhaled sharply. This was not going the way I had hoped.

"Come on, Sophie. Can I take you to dinner or not?"

I swallowed. "I'm afraid I can't give you an answer right now, George."

His shoulders sagged slightly.

"Well, not to decide is to decide." He looked at his watch and stood up. "I have to get back. I'll see you around."

"George—"

Either he didn't hear me or pretended not to—he left the Green Dragon without a backward glance.

I drew a shaky breath and was slightly startled to feel tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. I had gotten what I wanted—why did I feel so terrible?


	14. It's Never Easy

**Disclaimer:** Alas, it is not mine.

**A/N:** I apologize for the lengthy gap between updates (and on a plot twist, no less!). Life has been rather complicated for the past few months and it interfered with my fanfic writing. I think things have straightened out enough for that not to be a problem anymore (or for a while at any rate). So, without further ado, I give you…

_Chapter 14: It's Never Easy_

I arrived back home without really realizing that I'd managed to make the journey. It was a miracle that I hadn't Splinched myself in the process, as all of my thoughts were focused on not thinking about what had just happened. I knew that if I thought about it, I would start to feel something and if I tried to feel anything at all, I would become completely overwhelmed in the worst way possible. It was just as well, I thought as I unlocked the front door, because I can't really afford to become overwhelmed, not by this and especially not after I've put so much effort into convincing myself that I didn't know how I felt.

I entered the house and headed toward the kitchen. Mum sat at the kitchen table, mulling over what looked like a crossword puzzle, completely ignoring the large tawny owl that was perched on the chair across from her.

"Hullo, Thisbe," I said to the owl. She glared at me and gave a scolding sort of hoot.

"She's been here for half an hour," said Mum, not looking up from the paper. "Athena is rather put out."

The owl in question ruffled her feathers on her perch in the far corner of the room. I went to untie the letter from Thisbe's leg.

"How was your tea?"

I sucked in a deep breath and made an attempt at nonchalance. "It was all right."

"It doesn't sound as though it was all right," said Mum skeptically.

"It was." I turned the letter over in my hands and broke the seal with my thumbnail. It contained a single word in Viv's sprawling script: _So?_

"You know I don't believe you, right?"

"I didn't expect you would. Can I borrow your pen for a moment?"

"Do you want to talk about it?" She slid the pen across the table.

"I don't know." I tried unsuccessfully to swallow the lump in my throat as I scrawled a quick reply—_Not well—_in the space beneath Viv's message. I messily refolded the letter and quickly retied it to Thisbe's leg. "I'm not sure I'd know where to start."

Mum smiled at me sadly. Thisbe gave me a hard look and a stern hoot before flying off through the kitchen window. I sat down in the chair vacated by the owl, feeling resigned and rather tired.

"I'll make you some tea," said Mum, rising from her seat. She made this offer whenever she didn't know what to do or say to make me feel better. In the past, I'd refused on principle, frustrated by the notion that my problems could be solved by tea. Strangely, I found the gesture comforting this time around. As Mum filled the kettle with water, life felt _simple_ and it was so easy to take advantage of it. I shut my eyes for a moment and breathed deeply.

The cheerful chime of the doorbell interrupted that all too brief solitude, an unpleasant reminder of everything that I was ignoring. I reluctantly opened my eyes. Mum wiped her hands on a dishtowel and went to answer the door. I could feel that easy sense of peace slipping from me, quick and ungraspable as smoke. I refocused and tried to think of nothing.

"You've a visitor."

For a split second, I thought it might be George and an iron band closed tightly around my chest. But it was Viv who sauntered into the room and plopped down in the seat across from me. I was relieved for a moment before I realized that Viv would cut straight to the heart of the matter and not accept any excuses.

_Shit_.

"I brought chocolate," she announced, setting a large box of Chocolate Frogs down in front of me. A reluctant smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.

"I'll leave you to it, then," said Mum, taking the kettle off. She gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze as she exited the kitchen.

"You got here quickly," I remarked.

"The joys of owl service and Apparition." She tossed a frog at me and I caught it rather clumsily. "All right, let's hear it."

"I'd rather not talk about it."

"Too bad. You got me involved and you know I'm going to force it out of you eventually."

I sighed and tore open the packaging. I took a bite out of one of the legs and flipped the card over.

"Hecate again."

"And don't try to change the subject," she warned, snatching the card from my fingers. "Let's not do this the hard way."

"It was an offhand comment," I said, rather put out that I'd been caught. Viv looked skeptical and drummed her fingernails against the table expectantly. I took a deep breath and tried to prepare myself for the impending avalanche of emotion. "Well…we…we, er, got to talking…"

"And?"

Another deep breath.

"…andhesaidhefanciedme."

"I knew it!" A triumphant grin stretched across Viv's face. "I _told_ you it wasn't a joke. Honestly."

She paused for a moment and seemed to realize that I was not as overjoyed as she was. Her smile faded slightly and her shoulders sagged.

"You mucked it up."

"Well, I don't know if I'd call it that…" I said, even though I knew her description was accurate.

"Sophie. What did you say?" Her voice had gone flat and serious and I knew without a doubt that she would not agree with how I'd chosen to handle the situation. I cleared my throat.

"I…well, I said it was rather complicated and I asked if I could think about it before we…well, he said that not to decide is to decide and he left…and then I came home."

Viv looked at me for a solid minute before very slowly and purposefully banging her head against the kitchen table.

"Sophie."

"Yes?"

"Are you _completely_ mad?"

I let out a rather indignant puff of air. "Look, I don't think it's completely unreasonable to—"

"Oh, yes it is!" A wild hand gesture accompanied her interjection and she looked at me sternly, mouth tight with determination. "You _clearly_ fancy him so therefore—"

"I don't know if I fancy him!"

"Oh, _honestly_!" She took a deep breath and I knew that there was no stopping her now. "You've been flirting with him for at least a year, you blush when he talks to you, you giggle incessantly—"

"I do n—"

"—you joined the bloody D. A. because he asked you to, you _frequently_ passed notes in class, you laugh at him even when he's not being particularly clever, you still have that quill that turned into a newt in the front pocked of your book bag—"

"I never had the chance to clean it out—"

"Since sixth year?" She chuckled dismissively. "And this is all not mentioning the fact that you were all over him in the Owlery the night the Inquisitorial Squad raided the room of Requirement—"

"First off, you weren't even _there_—"

"Angelina and Alicia kindly provided a reenactment," she said with a wry smile. "'I'm just slightly dizzy.' _Right_. Like _that's_ not a transparent attempt to get cozy…"

"I was _dizzy_!"

"Granted, but were you _that_ dizzy? Does 'slightly dizzy' really necessitate being held in the arms of a dashing young man such as George?"

"Oh stop it, you're sounding just like him now."

"Don't avoid the question, Sophie."

I tried to steel myself against her attempt to warp my own logic but it was too late. I had been dizzy at the time, but was I incapable of standing on my own? A tiny twitching doubt pulled at the back of my mind and I was not a good enough actress to prevent it from reflecting in my facial expression. Viv pressed on, a victorious smile already in place.

"Really, Sophie. You cuddled up to him in the Owlery, you liked it when he kissed you—"

"I never said that!"

"Right. You just stood there and kissed him back because you didn't enjoy it at _all_."

My cheeks flamed and Viv's smile became wider.

"You fancy him. You're just frightened to admit it."

I sighed. "Viv, you don't understand it's—"

"It may be difficult for you to believe but I do understand. I was friends with Dan before we—"

"That was different. You were friends, but it wasn't the same way…"

"Well, perhaps you're right about that." But the smile remained and there was now an odd sort of sparkle in her eyes, as though she had just realized her knight was in one move of my king. She abruptly rose and went to the far end of the counter by the toaster where we kept pens and papers and the like.

"What are you doing?"

She rummaged about for a bit before finding some blank paper and a pen. She began scribbling quickly, brow furrowed in concentration.

"Viv—"

"Can I borrow your owl?" She had folded the paper and was already making a beeline for Athena.

"I—who are you writing?" If she was writing George, I was sunk. I could not have that conversation twice in one day and manage to keep my composure _or _my sanity.

"Alicia." The letter was tightly secured and Athena was flying out the window.

"Why?" I asked warily.

"Because she is more versed in this subject than I am," said Viv, plopping back down in her chair and grabbing a Chocolate Frog. "Dan and I weren't friends like you and George. Alicia and Lee were."

An exasperated sigh exploded from my lungs. "That's diff—"

"Really? How so?" She did not sound particularly interested in the answer; rather she seemed intent on exposing some sort of fatal flaw in my reasoning.

"They…they didn't spend…I mean, they never spent much time alone with each other…"

"Not that you saw," countered Viv with a devilish grin. "_You_ spent most of last year avoiding me, studying, or pretending to study while George distracted you."

"I wasn't—"

"And you're also forgetting how they were both obsessed with wizard's chess first through fourth year—they spent quite a bit of time playing games just the two of them."

"Well—"

"And of course the number of times they've partnered together in class—" Viv was cut off by the cheery chime of the doorbell. She sprang nimbly from her seat and went to answer the door, looking very much like the cat who ate the canary. I tried to collect myself in the brief time that she was gone, hoping to regain some of the ground I'd obviously lost. Viv presently returned with a pajama clad Alicia in tow.

"I thought you had a proper job to be at?" I asked, looking pointedly at the purple dragon slippers on her feet.

"I start next week." She took the chair next to me and immediately helped herself to a Chocolate Frog. "And don't try and change the subject."

"I wasn't—oh, never mind."

"I owled Angelina as well but she can't make it." Alicia tore open the packaging, neatly ripping the enclosed wizard card in half.

"Did you notify the Prime Minister as well? Magical and Muggle?" I asked irritably. I appreciated the fact that my friends were concerned about me, but I failed to see the necessity of keeping everyone on a minute-by-minute update of my life, especially given the fact that I'd been spending quite a lot of time embarrassing myself lately.

"Oh, don't have kittens: it's Angelina," said Alicia, chucking the wrapper at me. "What happened? It can't be all that bad."

"No, she's just completely raving mad," explained Viv before I could so much as open my mouth.

"Well, we already knew that. I thought you were supposed to have tea and get everything worked out?"

"Oh, they did. George made it quite plain that he fancies Sophie; Sophie responded by saying she needed time to think because it's 'complicated.'"

Alicia indulged herself in a spectacular eye roll. "_Really_, Sophie!"

"Don't you '_really_!" me: it _is_ complicated!" I protested.

"It's complicated because _you're_ making it complicated, ducks."

"She's right. And mind you, _I'm_ speaking from ex_-_per_-_i_-_ence." Alicia rapped her knuckles on the table with every syllable. "It might be _uncomfortable_ for you to admit it but it's hardly _complicated_."

"I—"

"And really, it's only uncomfortable for a short time," interrupted Alicia. "Once you get everything sorted out, it's quite nice—you already know each other, so you get to skip to the fun parts." A devious grin accompanied this last statement.

"It's true," confirmed Viv.

I shuddered. "Thank you, that was far more information than I ever needed or wanted to know."

"Go on, I know you've thought about getting to know George better…" Alicia gave me a knowing nudge and my cheeks flamed.

"I—"

"Oh, just go on and admit it already. What's the worst that could happen?"

"I've been trying to explain that to you!"

"What you've been doing is making up dodgy, half-baked explanations that you don't even believe," clarified Alicia.

I opened my mouth to reply and found for the life of me, I could not think of a proper retort.

"And really, what's s awful about admitting you fancy George?" continued Viv. "He's not seeing someone else. He's not married. He's not a bad bloke. Merlin's _pants_, Sophie, he doesn't even _fancy_ someone else! You're friends, but it's not as though you're _related_."

And for perhaps the first time, I realized that Viv was right and there was absolutely no excuse I could make that would allow me to deny it.

"I think that it's probably easier to be unsure because the implications aren't quite as harsh," said Alicia quietly. "It's not as easy to be surprised by your own feelings because it's frightening, almost like you don't really know yourself."

I felt as though I'd been hit in the stomach by the entire Irish National Quidditch team.

"And that's all skewed perception," added Viv. "People occasionally miss things. A single instance doesn't mean you're stupid or anything like that." Alicia nodded in agreement.

"But…it wasn't just once…" My mouth felt coated in cotton. I stayed silent for a moment longer before realizing I didn't have anything else to add.

"Now you're getting picky—it all revolves around the same issue, so I count it as one incident."

I sighed and looked down at my hands. "You're giving me too much credit."

"The number of times it occurred is irrelevant—what matters is that you still have the opportunity to change the outcome," said Alicia.

"You mean with what happened today?" I shook my head. "It's rather late for that."

"At no point in the conversation did you terminate your friendship _or_ agree to cease all further discussion on the subject," pointed out Viv. "Owl him and tell him you've changed your mind."

"I…I don't know. It still feels complicated…though maybe not as much as I thought."

"Do it—it will sort itself out."

I took a deep breath. "I don't know if I can, though. That I'm brave enough to."

Alicia shook her head vehemently. "What a load of bollocks!"

"I wasn't brave enough to take anything at face value. I had to distort it with analysis."

"Well, now you know better. Just go and do it. I think you may regret it if you don't."

It was easy to admit she was right. It just wasn't sensible to always make choices that were easily and comfortable—everyone knew that. But it was so much more difficult in practice. In practice, I could make terrible mistakes. In practice, I could get hurt. In practice, I was not so brave.

*

The talk with Viv and Alicia inevitably brought up issues and feelings that were quite overwhelming in their scope. Work was a welcome distraction. Work allowed me to focus on other things, to not _think_ quite so much. The fact that I was working a few blocks away from the boy who was the center of most of my problems failed to rattle me—I had books to shelve, customers to assist, inventories to complete. I occupied myself with other projects at home. I purchased a thick book titled _Now What?: The Hogwarts Graduate's Guide to Choosing a Career in Magic_ and spend most of my free hours studying it intently and taking copious notes.

When Friday came I realized that I'd managed to go through the entire week without analyzing anything related to George or berating myself for having a poor handle on the situation. It was not exactly progress, but it wasn't a bad thing, either. Besides, I wasn't entirely certain that I was looking for progress—in fact, I was still struggling with the idea that there was anything that I could _do_ about the situation. However, fate had a tendency to prove me wrong. This time, it came in the form of Brenna.

"_Sophie_."

A purposeful kick landed on my shin and I looked up to find Brenna glaring at me over her porridge. I kicked her back and returned the glare.

"What was that for?"

"I've asked you the _same_ question _three_ _times_," she said exasperatedly, delivering a retaliatory kick that I decided to ignore.

"You ought to know I'm never a good breakfast companion. You know, having lived with me for all these years."

She sighed and rolled her eyes. She was clearly ready for her second year, given the recent rapid development of her melodramatic side.

"Whatever. Are you working tomorrow?"

"Yes, full shift."

"Could we go to Diagon Alley today, then?"

I paled slightly, spoonful of porridge midway to my mouth. "What?"

"Diagon Alley. You promised you'd take me to Fred and George's shop," she reminded me, exasperation thickly coloring her tone.

"You're asking me for favors after kicking me in the shin?" Though I was slightly annoyed with the beating my shins had taken, the main goal of this statement was to try and put off the trip (hopefully for as long as possible).

"I'm sorry!"

"Well—"

"You _did_ promise," she went on, flashing her puppy dog eyes for all they were worth. It was unfortunate that she was still young enough to make you feel sorry for her, despite the fact that she had been a right prat not five seconds ago. "You said last week we could go and have a sisters outing."

"Things were different last week."

She frowned. "How do you mean?"

"Never mind. Does it really have to be today?" More importantly, did it have to be Fred and George's shop?

"You work tomorrow and I'm going to Kathleen's on Sunday." A slight whine crept into her voice. "And you _promised_ you'd take me and I've been looking forward to it_ all week_."

"Did Mum and Dad say it was all right? Mum's been rather funny about our safety lately…"

"It's fine so long as we're back by dark. They agreed last night at dinner. _You_ weren't paying attention, of course." She frowned and tilted her head to the side. "You've been doing a lot of that lately, you know."

"You don't know half the story…" I muttered. I suppressed a sigh. I really, really, _really_ did not want to do this, but Brenna was beyond determined and I had little choice in the matter. I put on my most convincing smile.

"All right, we'll go this afternoon."

*

The uncharacteristic silence and grayness that had descended upon Diagon Alley in the past week was the perfect backdrop for my dreary mood and sense of impending doom. Brenna was completely unaffected by both; she strode through the streets with the light step of someone too young to be terribly bothered by evil wizards or romantic misadventures. I followed her reluctantly, dragging my feet and feeling as though I was on my way to my execution.

The brightness of the shop made it visible from a fair distance away and only served to remind me that a surely awkward and uncomfortable encounter was much nearer than I would like it to be. My heart thumped loudly in my chest and my stomach pitched with every step forward. The closer we came to the shop, the more awful the whole venture seemed. When we were close enough to read the labels on the brightly colored products displayed in the windows, my fear overwhelmed me and I found that my legs could take me no further.

"Brenna, wait!"

She turned around reluctantly and gave a beleaguered sigh. "What?"

I dug a few Galleons from my pocket. "Here, take these. I'll wait out here."

The irritation faded from her face as I pressed the coins into her palm, replaced by a look of genuine confusion. "Why? Don't you want to go in?"

"No."

"Why?"

"It's complicated." Brenna looked perplexed. "_Really_ complicated."

"How—"

"Look, I'll explain later." I pulled the remaining money from my pocket and shoved it at her. "Just go."

She looked at me for a moment more before nodding skeptically and pocketing the money. A cacophony of joyous noise spilled from the doorway as she opened the shop door. A twinge of regret pulled at my heart; despite my misgivings about the situation, I could not deny that it sounded rather fun. Brenna gave me one last look before disappearing into the shop, the door shutting noisily behind her. I leaned against the brickwork of the building, making sure to keep out of sight from the windows. I didn't exactly feel wonderful about the situation—in fact, I felt rather guilty about copping out at the last moment—but the tense knot in my shoulders relaxed just slightly.

Seconds later, the shop door jangled open, startling me out of my brief moment of solitude. Brenna propped the door open with her foot and peered outside.

"I gave you all my money," I warned her. She waved me off.

"Fred says that George won't be back for an hour and to come inside." She gave me a quizzical look. "Did you two have a row?"

"I said I'll explain later. Are you certain it's just Fred in there? Are you certain it's not George _pretending_ to be Fred, for that matter?"

"He said to tell you he swears on his life that he is in fact Fred and not George."

"First rule: _always_ treat statements of identity from either Fred or George with a certain amount of skepticism."

Brenna rolled her eyes. "It's Fred. George always swears on his honor as a Weasley when he's pretending to be Fred. Besides, their smiles are different."

I hesitated for a moment, guilt and pride waging a silent war inside me. But Brenna evidently had little patience for hesitation or inner debate. With a roll of her eyes and a beleaguered sigh that was becoming increasingly familiar, she grabbed hold of my wrist and tugged me into the shop.

If you wanted to be brief about it, you would describe the interior of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes as an overwhelming trip for all the senses. The color scheme was delightfully mismatched and outlandish—bright oranges and reds competed with iridescent violets and unnatural greens—and every square inch of the shop seemed to have something you just had to look at. A faint whiff of gunpowder mingled with the sweet smell of cinnamon, a strange and oddly pleasant combination that tickled the back of your throat. Despite my nerves, I quickly became distracted by the bright labels and packages on the shelves. It was only when I felt a friendly tap on my shoulder that I remembered I had not come to the shop for entertainment. I tore my gaze away from a display of Hypno-Specs ("Mesmerize your friends! Confound your enemies!") and found myself face to face with Fred Weasley.

"So, what do you think?" He wore the store's uniform of bright magenta robes, a choice that might have been disastrous in an ordinary shop.

It took me a moment before I could summon up the wherewithal to utter a rather shocked "Wow", partly because the shop was impressive and partly because I'd become nervous as hell.

"We're still looking for a bookkeeper, you know," he said, nudging me with his elbow. I wondered if he was simply resurrecting the joke or if he was trying to put me at ease. Perhaps both.

"Can't help you, I'm afraid. Besides, I'm back at Flourish and Blotts for the summer."

He looked flabbergasted. "You'd rather shelve dusty old books than work for the fastest growing business in Diagon Alley?"

"Well, I reckon I'm less likely to turn into a canary working the till, though."

He laughed good-naturedly and a slight pause followed. I tried to swallow my panic and continued speaking in what I hoped was the most natural way possible.

"But…really, it's wonderful…what you've got here…wonderful execution…" I risked a glance at Fred and found him grinning impishly, totally unimpressed by my attempts at benign conversation.

"You're walking on eggshells, Sophie."

I straightened my shoulders and tried my best to project confidence. "I am not."

"Yes, you are. You're unusually inarticulate and the color of a cherry tomato."

"Well even in the _unlikely_ event that I was, could you blame me?"

"No. It's just terribly fun to watch."

I frowned. "You mean you're not angry with me?"

He smirked. "I thought you weren't—"

"Oh, shut up, we both know I was lying."

He grinned and looked pleased with himself, as though he thought the ensuing conversation would be quite fun.

"No, I'm not angry with you. Should I be?"

"Well…I mean, I…" I sputtered and struggled with how to word this next part. "I…I assumed George is, so I thought you'd be as well…"

"I wouldn't say he's angry. Disappointed, more like."

I felt a strange and uncertain sense of relief. I was glad that I hadn't done something unforgivable but I wasn't certain how I wanted to proceed from that revelation. I quickly dismissed the thought for later.

"Well, I suppose that's better than angry."

"I am slightly confused, though," he said. The slight glint of mischief in his eyes warned me to proceed carefully.

"About what?"

"Do you not fancy him or are you just completely mad?"

I sighed exasperatedly. I didn't want to get into this now, not in the middle of the shop with the possibility of George showing up feeling imminent.

"It's complicated."

"You're not secretly in love with me are you? Because _that_ opens an entirely new can of kelpies…"

Despite my irritation with his line of questioning, I couldn't resist smiling. "No, Fred, nothing like that."

"It would've never have worked out between us," he said, clasping one hand over his heart and sighing despondently. "I could never tame your wild spirit."

"My 'wild spirit?'"

He shrugged. "Some rubbish I read in one of Viv's books. You know, the cheap paperbacks with the bosomy women and sweaty men on the covers."

"You actually _read_ those?"

"George, Lee, and I flipped through a few one evening. They're pure rubbish, of course, but they're entertaining. And educational." He waggled his eyebrows and I was certain he was not referring to the melodramatic dialogue. "Anyway, that doesn't answer my question."

"I told you: it's complicated."

"'Complicated' has hardly stopped you before—you took N. E. W. T. Potions for Merlin's sake!"

"Well…this is different. It…came up suddenly and caught me off guard."

He arched a disbelieving eyebrow. "I have to disagree. It's been rather obvious, actually. Since sixth year, at least."

I rolled my eyes. "Did you rehearse beforehand? You sound exactly like him."

"And after that spectacle in the hall—"

"Oh, do shut up."

"And I have it on good authority that it was a _mutual_ spectacle—"

My face flushed profusely and I sputtered for a moment before smacking him on the arm. I wasn't sure if I was angry with him for taking the mickey or at George for kissing and telling. Luckily, they looked enough alike that swatting Fred was quite satisfying.

"Fred Weasley, you'll be lucky if I hex you into next _year_."

He waved his hand dismissively. "Empty threats, Sophie. I've yet to see you follow through."

"You're certainly tempting me…"

"Mum always said to do what you're good at." He grinned. "But really, Sophie, is it worth all this agony?"

I sighed again and rolled my eyes heavenward. "It's complicated."

"You keep saying that, but I don't think you believe it," he said, folding his arms across his chest.

"Trust me on this one."

"I think you'd change your mind if you reevaluated things."

"Evaluating things is what got me into this in the first place."

He looked at me for a moment with his particular brand of rare seriousness, the thoughtful and quiet side that was so easy to forget he had. He smiled after a moment and clapped me on the shoulder. This, too, was a different kind of smile, one that wasn't centered on jokes; rather the simple conviction that things were going to turn out all right.

"You'll sort everything out, Sophie."

And despite the ongoing stress and the looming threat of a convoluted and uncomfortable resolution to a complicated situation, I desperately hoped that he was right.

*

**A/N:** Again, so sorry for the delay! I know that not a lot happened because this chapter was super dialogue- and analysis-centric, but it _had_ to happen to fit in with the story arc I have in mind. The next chapter will be very different (and posted much, much sooner). In the meantime, please review and let me know what you think!


	15. Regret

**Disclaimer: **SPOILER: It's not mine.

**A/N: **Thank you all so much for your reviews! I can never quite say how much it means to me to hear from you guys and I really appreciate that you take the time to submit feedback. Thank you! If you like to listen to music while you read, you may consider any of these for chapters 13-15: "Burning Bridges (Unreleased Demo)," "A Beautiful Mess," and "If It Kills Me" all by Jason Mraz (for the record, I don't own any of these wonderful songs). They were playing in the background while I was writing and were definitely inspiring.

_Chapter 15: Regret_

_Dear Sophie,_

_I certainly hope that the reason you have not responded to my last two owls is because you are too busy snogging George to reply. However, I suspect that you're still agonizing about the whole situation and just ignoring my post. Please write soon before I begin to think that you're dying of Spattergroit._

_Love,_

_Viv_

_P. S. Did you know that Gringott's wants a __six hour interview__?! I don't mind goblins but their trust issues are rather mind-boggling. Normally I'd turn them down, but I want that job in the most awful way. _

_*_

_Sophie,_

_Viv's not the only one who would like to hear from you (we've exchanged several letters on your lack of correspondence). Has anything changed? If you want to talk about anything, send me an owl. Send Viv one while you're at it—I think she's about to go mad. _

_I start my new job tomorrow. I'm rather nervous but I think it will turn out all right. I'll give you all the details next time we speak._

_x.o., Alicia_

_*_

_Sophie!_

_You have all this wonderful drama going on in your life and you don't tell me?! I'm horribly offended._

_All right, not really. I can understand why you didn't bring it up—you're probably thinking about it too much to want to talk about it and you know Alicia and Viv will talk to me about it anyway (by the way, hope you're not too overwhelmed by the deluge of letters Viv has apparently unleashed on your home). You already know what I think you should do so I won't tell you again. _

_Well, not now, anyway._

_Tryouts are murder but are going rather well. Wood is sane compared to Briggs. I mean, I understand the physically demanding nature of being a professional Chaser, but really! I've never been this sore in my life._

—_Angelina_

_*_

_Here's an ultimatum you might enjoy: if you don't sort things out yourself, I shall abscond with you to a love nest in the country. White picket fence and a lovely garden. You'll love it. _

_Cheers,_

_Fred_

_*_

_Sophie, I'm giving you until noon tomorrow. _

—_Viv _

_*_

_You forget I am now a wealthy man and can afford scores of love nests. As for this alleged disloyalty to my brother, I reckon you can't __really__ tell us apart. We'll switch when you least expect it and then after a month or so, we'll come clean and you'll be forced to admit your affection for my brother. Or both of us. Either way, it all works out in the end._

_F. W._

_*_

_Sophia Elaine, if you do not reply soon, I shall resort to drastic measures._

—_V_

_*_

_Sophie, this is getting ridiculous. At least send us a note that says, "I'm thinking about it" or "It's just so complicated!" or some other sort of nonsense._

_The new job's going relatively well. I like my boss and most of the staff, though there are a few I could do without. Edward, one of the counselors, has taken a liking to me, which I of course cannot reciprocate because I am in a relationship and because he is over forty and constantly smells of boiled cabbage._

_x.o., Alicia _

_*_

_I am deeply offended about these so-called 'reservations' about my plan. Really, Sophie, when have I ever steered you wrong?_

_F. W._

_*_

_Fred tells me that the three of you are going to go live in a love nest in the country? Please respond and clarify, as I'm not certain if he is joking. Also, why is it that you've found time to respond to his letters and not mine?_

_Love,_

_Viv._

_P. S. I GOT THE JOB!!!!_

_*_

_Ugh. Edward spent the past twenty minutes at my desk making small talk and leering at me. Had to lie and say I had to get an important owl in the post. Am hoping that if I look really busy he'll leave me be until lunch. Must find casual way to bring up serious boyfriend in conversation. Serious boyfriend who lifts weights in his spare time. Lots of weights._

_Please write—am in between assignments and must look busy until tomorrow._

_Odor of cabbage still lingers. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh._

_x.o., Alicia_

_*_

_I'm afraid I could not keep our love a secret any longer. Went and shouted it from the rooftops—the neighbors were not pleased. Viv has remarkable hearing, though, being several miles away and all. Speaking of which, please write back to her—she's bombarded our flat with owls. And as long as I'm distributing advice, I'm going to once again recommend that you sort things out with George before I have to resort to the love nest._

_Cheers,_

_Fred_

_*_

_Whoa. Evidently I missed something._

—_Lee_

_*_

Three weeks passed. I got a lot accomplished—I brought back _The Blotter_ for the summer, this time with twice the number of book reviews. I cleaned and dusted every corner of Flourish and Blotts, including underneath the shelves and the high far corners of the ceiling that hadn't been done in years. I completely reorganized and rearranged my room. I got rid of several boxes of old schoolwork, clothes that didn't fit, books I didn't read any more, and other miscellany I'd collected over the years. I bought another career book and made more pages of notes. I started responding to the help wanted ads in _The Daily Prophet_ and began a tentative search for my own flat.

It was the moments in between that bothered me the most. It was then that my mind drifted to the obvious and for that moment I lost all semblance of normality. I could eventually rein in that horrible sinking feeling in my stomach and the heavy lump in my throat and go back to whatever I was doing before, but the damage had been done at that point. Whatever resistance I had was eroding like a sand castle at high tide. It wasn't until an oddly sunny day in July that I began to understand what that would mean.

It was nearing three o'clock on a Monday and the prospect of a tea break was looming tantalizingly in front of me. I'd been minding the counter since ten that morning and I was feeling keen to get out of the shop. I stretched and rose from the stool behind the register.

"I think I'll take a tea break if that's all right."

"Go on," said Margaret, glancing up from her novel. We'd had very few customers that day, so she'd made herself comfortable on one of the step stools used to reach high shelves. "We haven't had a sale since one so take your time and enjoy the sunshine."

"All right. I'll be at Fortescue's."

Margaret gave me a startled look, her eyebrows climbing up toward her widow's peak. "Didn't anyone tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

She marked her place in the book and leaned over, lowering her voice. "Shop's been boarded up for the past three days. It looked like he…left in a hurry."

I shuddered involuntarily. There had been a few disappearances since June but they were people I'd never met, just names in the newspaper, really. Suddenly, I didn't feel like venturing very far outside of Flourish and Blotts.

"Oh, I…maybe I'll just go to Escher's," I said, naming a small café only three doors down.

"Yes…that might be best."

Margaret gave me a meaningful look before going back to her book. Sobered and chilled, I gathered my things and headed out toward the front of the shop.

It was pure chance that I happened to glance out of the shop window before I left the building. My breath hitched and I quickly backed up so that I was hidden behind the Ministry poster plastered on the front window.

George Weasley was strolling casually up the street.

I risked another glance, my heart thrumming nervously in my throat and my stomach doing back flips. It wasn't like I had expected him to have changed since the last time I saw him, but I found myself taking careful note of his features as though I hadn't seen him in years. I carefully memorized the way he twisted his mouth to the side, as though he was in deep thought and how a smile still danced in the corners of his eyes.

Before I could begin to think about _why _I was taking such an inventory, he glanced up at the shop and I dodged back behind the poster, my heart racing wildly.

_I should have gone out the back way once I saw it was him, I shouldn't have looked a second time…_

"Something wrong, love?" Margaret was looking at me oddly (and I could hardly blame her, really).

"That depends," I said, rather breathlessly. "Is there a ginger haired boy walking up to the door?"

"No…he's heading up the street. Why the concern?"

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. "It's complicated."

I was really starting to tire of that word.

The almost-encounter with George weighed heavily on my thoughts for the rest of the day. I tried to ignore it at first—after all, I had made this gigantic effort to not think about him for the past three weeks and if I gave in all of my efforts would be a waste of time—but it quickly became apparent that I did not have that option. He occupied my thoughts, whether I liked it or not.

At first, I was angry. These past three weeks hadn't been easy—dodging both Alicia and Viv was a task in itself. I had put insurmountable effort into maintaining a semblance of normality and George had effectively shattered that when he came waltzing up Diagon Alley. Didn't he realize that when he decided to walk past the shop? Didn't he realize that I could be leaving to take my tea break or glancing up from the till? Didn't he realize that seeing him would obviously have a big effect on me and that I would agonize about it for the rest of the day?

After a moment I conceded that there was no way he could have reasonably predicted that, even if he had kept on with Divination. In fact for all he knew, seeing him had little to no effect on me—I mean, I'd only articulated that I was confused by everything. Perhaps he thought that it wouldn't bother me.

I found myself wondering about what he'd been thinking when he'd glanced up at the shop. Fred had said he wasn't angry but that didn't mean that he couldn't have looked up and thought, "Ah, yes, Flourish and Blotts, the employer of the horrible bitch who broke my heart." He couldn't have been thinking anything _good_, not after what I'd put him through. The ever-present lump in my throat doubled in size and a familiar nameless sour feeling invaded my stomach.

With a start I realized that the feeling wasn't exactly nameless. It had a very good name. Fred had used it back in the shop: it was regret. Pure and utterly miserable regret. And somehow, giving it a name only made it worse. Giving it a name made me realize what an idiot I'd been.

*

The next was little short of a nightmare.

'Distracted' was a kind descriptor. I misquoted prices and made frequent errors while ringing up customers. I accidentally charged one woman three times for the same book and had to chase her halfway down to Madam Malkin's so I could rectify the error. Margaret put me on a break after that and told me not to come back until I cleared my head. I told her that a break wasn't going to help me, that I was utterly hopeless no matter what, but I think she thought I was just being melodramatic.

Business slowed to a dead halt around half past five, right when the storm began. At that point I was nearly in tears and had been ordered by both Margaret and Kathleen to sit down behind the counter and take a few moments for myself. I had pulled out my latest career book—_So You Don't Know What to Do: Careers for Confused and Educated Wizards and Witches_—and was making a rather futile attempt to read to take my mind off everything. Thunder boomed ominously outside and rain clattered loudly against the roof.

_If you're interested in literature you may want to consider a career…_

Everyone seemed to think I could sort everything out, but what if it was too late? It had been three weeks. I wouldn't fault him for moving on. There was no reason to hang about waiting for me to change my mind…

_If you're interested in literature you may want to consider a career…_

Although I think Fred would have told me if it was too late. Of all people, he would know…apart from George, I mean…

_If you're interested in literature you may want to consider a career…_

But even if it wasn't too late, what was I going to do about it? I regretted how things had gone, certainly, but there was a difference between having regret and acting on it…

_If you're interested in literature you may want to consider a career…_

What _could_ I do? There weren't exactly instructions for this sort of thing. There weren't any greeting cards that said "Sorry for being so overly analytical about our relationship, I think you were right and I'd really like to give it a go if you don't hate me already." Besides, this was the sort of thing that had to be done in person…

_If you're interested in literature you may want to consider a career…_

Could I even do that? Past experience seemed to indicate that I would turn into a blubbering mess should I even attempt such a thing and _that's _certainly not going to make a good impression—

"Sophie, if you are _still_ agonizing about shorting that gentleman three Knuts, I'm going to have you sacked," said Kathleen.

"You can't have her sacked, dear, you're just a shop girl," Margaret reminded her. Kathleen was the sort of worker who constantly had aspirations beyond her position. "You can't still be upset about that, Sophie, he was quite understanding."

"No, I've got…other things on my mind. Have all day, actually."

"Care to talk about it?"

I shrugged. "I don't know what there is to talk about at this point."

"Oh, just have out with it. You'll feel better," Kathleen assured me.

I sighed and shut my book, hugging it tightly against my chest. "A friend told me that he fancied me and I turned him down because…well, because those things can go wrong and I…I was just afraid."

"That's understandable—it can be a little intimidating," said Margaret. Three weeks ago, such a statement would have made me feel better—I would have felt validated, like I was doing the right thing. Now…now it just felt strange, as though she were praising me for something that I knew I'd done poorly.

"No, but it's worse than that. Yesterday I realized that I'd made a horrible mistake. I…I shouldn't have done that. And now I just feel horrible because I can't undo it—"

"So go see him," interrupted Margaret.

"I can't do that."

"Can't or won't?" asked Kathleen shrewdly. I was not expecting this response and I stammered for a moment before Margaret interrupted me.

"You certainly can."

I managed to find my voice again. "Margaret, I may have broken his heart and ruined our friendship. You think he_ wants_ to see me?"

"He will if you tell him what you told us," she said matter-of-factly. "'Sides, what've you got to lose?"

"Well—"

"The _proper_ answer is 'nothing but pride.' And pride's not such a horrible thing to lose, anyroad."

"Margaret—"

She was pulling me to my feet and Kathleen was already hoisting my bag from where I'd left it behind the counter. "Your shift is over—go see him."

"I'm on until seven!"

"Kathleen and I can manage on our own." I looked helplessly at Kathleen, who cheerily shoved my book bag into my hands.

"Don't look at me: Margaret's in charge Saturday nights, you know that," she said, putting her hands up defensively, the cheeky sparkle in her eyes belying the seriousness of her manner.

I looked back at Margaret. She regarded me sternly over her reading glasses, hands balled into fists on her hips. I took a deep breath, ready to argue until she backed down and allowed me to stay. But I paused for just a moment. Did I really _want_ to stay? Hadn't I been spending the past three weeks wishing I had an opportunity to change things? Was I simply denying that such an opportunity existed because it was easier than acting on it?

I exhaled and breathed deep again. I had taken the easy way before and I'd learned firsthand that it was not the best way to handle things. The decision itself had been easy, but the results had been anything but. I was willing to admit I was wrong, but apparently not willing to do anything about it. Wasn't that just being wrong in a different way?

Another deep breath, this time accompanied by a faint and strange sort of smile and the strangely peaceful realization of knowing exactly what I needed to do.

"I'll see you on Monday."

I barely heard Margaret and Kathleen's approving comments as I shouldered my book bag and shoved my book unceremoniously inside. I managed a distracted farewell before taking off for the front door at a run.

The rain hit me the second I ran out the door, splashing into my eyes and ears. It occurred to me that it might be prudent to slow down and cast an Impervius Charm, but by that time I was sprinting down the street and determined not to stop until I reached my destination.

My hair was slick with rainwater and my soaked clothes felt like a second skin by the time I got to Fred and George's shop. My shoes squelched uncomfortably as I ran up the narrow steps to their flat two at a time, all the while the words, "too late, too late, I'm too late…" pounded in rhythm with my footsteps. I reached the landing and nearly slipped, getting a shot of adrenaline that jolted my already pounding heart. I steadied myself with the railing and paused for just a moment, my breath coming in short gasps.

The warm light peeking out from behind the curtained window on the door seemed to indicate that at least one of them was home. My stomach clenched uncomfortably as I fully realized where I was and what I was about to do. After I knocked on that door, I couldn't take it back—I had to face whatever happened, no matter how uncomfortable or weird it was. For a moment, I wavered, unsure. For a moment I thought I might turn around and go home.

Then a small part of me, that part I'd been ignoring since that kiss in the hallway, reminded me that I was done being an idiot.

I raised my hand and knocked hard on the door.

*

**A/N: **Okay, so it's kind of a cliffhanger…but a new chapter will be up soon! Put the torches and pitchforks away!


End file.
